


ua kaha aku la ka nalu o kuu aina (the surf has pressed upon my land)

by icoulddothisallday, TetrodotoxinB



Series: a'ohe pu'u ki'eki'e ke ho'a'o 'ia e pi'i (no cliff is so tall it cannot be climbed) [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Abusive Therapeutic Relationship (Past), Anxiety, Child Abuse, Developing Relationship, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Medical Abuse (Past), Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Self-Hatred, Uncomfortable/Unpleasant Sex, Vomiting, conversion therapy, couples fighting, minor watching porn (conversion therapy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-05-30 21:09:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19411453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icoulddothisallday/pseuds/icoulddothisallday, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: Steve knows, helearned, how a man behaves. He can play his part.Danny, who is a good man and great father, looks nothing like what Steve was taught.Reconciling the two means giving up everything he's clung too for the last two decades, and there's nothing about it that's easy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to ChibiSquirt for the beta and support. 
> 
> Please read with care and mind the tags.

Danny wears his slacks like they’re painted on. It’s one of the first things Steve notices, much to his disappointment. But in a perverse way, and much to his relief, the shock of his father’s murder and the subsequent grief are enough to keep Steve from getting it up for the first three weeks of working with Danny. 

After that, Steve resorts to the tried and true method of physical exhaustion to avoid any physical desire that might be related to his new work partner. Between running and swimming and lifting weights and getting shot at every other day, Steve doesn’t so much as think about Danny’s fantastically sculpted ass for at least four more months. It’s enough time that they’re well into established friendship territory which helps bank his desire. 

It also means Cath has had time to reappear in his life. Steve focuses his sexual energy on her. 

Everything is fine.

*

Things aren’t fine, but they’re not exactly bad, either. Mostly they’re just confusing. Danny calls Steve “babe” every third sentence and Rachel made some off-handed comment about Steve being Danny’s type. He can’t tell which, if either, of them is serious. 

Danny’s obviously not gay. It’s not that gay men don’t marry women, it’s that gay men don’t marry women and enjoy it. They also don’t flirt with women. Not when there’s no reason to keep up pretenses. 

So Danny’s bi. Unless he’s not. Steve still can’t fucking tell.

But either way, Steve hasn’t been this tied up over a guy since 1990. Then again, fourteen was a much tougher age. 

He also hadn’t known any better, then. But he had learned.

Still, the way Danny manages to casually touch Steve like it doesn’t mean anything, like there aren’t repercussions for being so friendly with other men... It twists Steve’s brain up in ways he’d rather not remember. 

Steve never quite works up the nerve to tell Danny to get out of his personal space, though, because friends like Danny don’t grow on trees and because maybe he’s earned a little comfort after everything. He doesn’t want to admit that he just likes the feel of Danny’s skin against his.

*  


After a fucking awful case, everyone needs a minute to recover, so they all convene at Steve’s for grilling and beer. It’s good, but not happy — they’re all too worn out and worked over for happy — and not long after dinner, Chin and Kono leave. 

A half an hour later and Danny still hasn’t made it off the lanai, much less home to his place. They’re not sloppy drunk, but they’re sure as hell not sober. Danny — somehow — has made himself at home on Steve’s chaise lounge, his head pillowed against Steve’s shoulder and beer in hand. 

“I don’t know about Gabby. I mean she’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s funny — but sometimes it’s hard to relate to someone who doesn’t know what the job is like, you know? I can’t just come out with the gory details of some guy getting dismembered on H1 over dinner with her. I can’t really let it out.”

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he answers, his voice coming out rougher after all the shouting he did earlier in the day. Firefights are loud. 

“Is Cath better about that? I mean she’s military, but she’s mostly been in intelligence, so…” Danny lets the question hang in the air.

Steve shrugs, Danny’s hair sticking to his skin as it moves. “Yes and no. She’s no stranger to it, but that doesn’t mean she wants to know. I feel the same as you sometimes.”

“That’s too bad. She’s nice. I want her to be good for you. You know I had this boyfriend, before Rachel, and he was an EMT. I could talk to him. He saw the same stupid, awful shit we see. I didn’t feel like I had to hide that part of my life from him.”

“What happened?” Steve asks. His voice is still rough, but for an entirely different reason now. His lungs feel tight, like the crushing breathlessness of deep water dives. Except right now he’s crushed by Danny’s ease, his lack of fear. 

“Eh, he got a job in Atlantic City. Local EMS was willing to pay for his paramedic’s training. It wasn’t far, but between our work schedules it just kind of fell apart. I met Rachel not long after.”

Danny says it like it’s obvious, like dating a man is as sensible as dating a woman. And it’s not like Steve hasn’t heard people on the news — the way Massachusetts made it legal nearly ten years ago, the way other states started to fall in line — but it’s one thing for other people, for _gay_ people. It’s another for Steve. 

“Hey, babe, you alright? You’re tense as hell all of the sudden,” Danny asks, his head turning up to look Steve in the face. 

Steve forces a smile onto his face and shakes his head. “I’m just tired. Come on, let’s call it a night.”

Danny looks a little suspicious but doesn’t argue as he takes his position on the sofa, instead offering Steve a slightly slurred “g’night” as Steve plods up the stairs.

*

When Steve wakes in the morning he’s warm and sated, the scraps of a vaguely pleasant dream tugging at the edges of his consciousness. Good nights don’t come often, haven’t since long before Doris died, and Steve is always grateful when the opportunity presents itself. 

Until he stretches. 

His boxers are sticky. In an instant, cold dread floods his entire body. The dream comes back in technicolor and Steve knows exactly what happened. He throws his blankets off, snags a change of clothes, and takes a very brusk and cold shower. 

Danny’s still asleep, oblivious to Steve’s abhorrent dreams and traitorous body. Steve slips quietly out the door and immediately sets a gruelling pace as he heads off down the street. 

It’s easy to remember the words he heard as a child. 

_Weak. Disgusting. Deviant. Unnatural._

He’s spent years purging himself of every ounce of that want and here Danny has seamlessly undone two decades of work. Steve doesn’t really blame Danny; Danny didn’t make Steve _do_ anything. If anything, Steve’s weak character is the problem. If he were stronger he’d fire Danny, re-activate in the Navy, set better personal boundaries — anything to create some distance. But he’s not stronger, so Steve settles for punishing his body until it’s too tired to have any unwanted responses.

It’ll work. It always works. 

*

Steve knows it’s for the best but it still stings when he sees Rachel asleep and leaning over the hospital bed, Danny clutching her hand in his sleep. Danny was never meant for Steve, or maybe more accurately, Steve was never meant for Danny. 

Either way.

*

Steve’s at home, doing his damnedest to get off to some very heterosexual porn, when the front door opens. In less than ten seconds the laptop is closed and Steve’s pants are up. He even doesn’t look too suspicious given that he wasn’t really getting anywhere with his hand anyway. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Danny calls and Steve’s chest twists.

“Hey, you’re out already?” Steve calls as he bounds down the stairs to see Danny, doing his best impression of not being disappointed to see his best friend.

Danny shrugs. “Apparently my insurance didn’t cover another night in the hospital. Accidental poisoning by sarin isn’t a coverable condition.”

“Ah,” Steve manages. “So you, uh, you came here first?”

“What? Where else am I gonna go?” Danny asks.

Steve pauses just a fraction of a second too long and Danny seems to get it. “Ah, you saw Rachel. Look, Steve, it’s nothing. We hate each other, but we don’t want each other dead. She was worried. That’s all. In fact,” Danny pauses and rubs his neck. “Look, almost dying. I, uh, I thought about somethings, my priorities. You, specifically.”

“Me?” Steve isn’t sure what Danny’s getting at.

“Yeah, um, you’re a good friend and I like you, but I think I might want more from this relationship and if I’m not reading this wrong you do, too. So, yeah, _you_ ,” Danny rambles. 

Steve stands motionless as Danny talks because the more Danny talks the closer he gets until his arms are around Steve’s waist. Danny’s arms are so strong, his hands on Steve’s back so solid and unexpectedly large. It’s nothing at all like Cath, nothing at all like any woman who has ever touched Steve. His skin starts to burn. He doesn’t know what’s happening. 

Except he does, doesn’t he. 

“Babe? I was gonna kiss you but you’ve got aneurysm face which is neither sexy nor is it healthy.”

Danny was going to kiss him. 

_Danny_ was going to _kiss him._

But that’s not — Steve’s not — Danny can’t — 

They’re friends and Steve won’t let his lack of self-discipline ruin that, he won’t put this on Danny, he can’t put this on Danny, it isn’t _right_ . It’s sick and _he’s_ sick and he can be better than this. Hasn’t he been better than this for two decades? He’s never let _those_ thoughts intrude. Not in communal showers or barracks or hand-to-hand. He never let himself want that, because he knows that it’s wrong. 

Steve’s thoughts come to a shuddering halt. He _wants_ Danny to kiss him. 

But he can’t want that.

Confused desire and arousal turns abruptly into nausea. 

Sense memory takes over. His body goes rigid, his breathing starts to scrape in his chest, his skin starts to crawl. He can _feel_ the sharp line of the chair behind him, the uncomfortable tug of the tape around his IV, the plastic bucket between his feet. 

He can hear the doctor’s voice. _You’re just sick, son, but we can make you better._

 _Take your medicine_ , he said, sitting Steve in front of the TV. _Take your medicine_ , he said, sliding an IV into Steve’s arm. 

Steve can’t breathe. His skin feels like there are thousands of insects crawling around underneath it. He wants to rip it off. He wants to run and run and _run._ Maybe if he can move fast enough, get far enough away, this will all disappear. He and Danny can just be him and Danny. 

Steve won’t have to think about the dreams or the way he knows exactly the width of Danny’s shoulders. Won’t have to acknowledge that he can picture the precise way Danny’s favorite slacks fall. He won’t have to admit that letting Danny touch him has never been innocent, that he’s been letting himself slide all these months. Those things won’t have to mean anything. 

His body trembles, held too still for too long. 

And then he’s running, the freeze response turned to flight. He makes it as far as the lanai before his legs buckle and he collapses to his knees. He hits the ground hard, but he can hardly feel it. His vision swims. He heaves in another breath. 

He’s going to lose everything. He’s going to lose it all: Five-0 and his home and his friends and — most of all — Danny. He’s going to lose Danny. 

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He tries to breathe. It’s fine. He’s done this before. He’ll go back to the Navy. No one needs to know. No one ever needs to find out how sick he is. 

*

Danny’s been on some dates that went sideways, maybe been with a couple guys who weren’t all the way there with their sexuality. No one has ever actually run from him before.

He gives Steve about a five second head start and then follows. Turns out the head start was pointless; Steve’s on his knees gasping for breath and having what can only be a truly unpleasant panic attack.

“Hey, Steve. It’s Danny,” he says, kneeling beside Steve. His knee pops angrily on the way down and he has to lower himself the rest of the way with his hands. 

Unsurprisingly, Steve doesn’t respond. Danny rests his hand on Steve’s shoulder. He’s about to offer an apology when Steve lurches, taking a few staggering steps to the lawn, and throws up. 

Danny’s seen quite a few people throw up — shock, grief, horror, a garden-variety stomach bug — and this looks nothing like that. There’s no surprise on Steve, in fact he looks almost relieved to be retching so hard that his whole body is bowed and spasming. Frankly, it looks agonizing, but whatever set Steve off is far beyond Danny’s ability to help at the moment. Instead, he situates himself well out of arm’s reach, but not so far that he’s out of range for emergency assistance, and waits. 

He doesn’t really understand what’s happening, but there’s a terrible suspicion building at the back of his brain. Homophobes are hateful and fearful and cruel, but they don’t puke when they’re kissed by a guy. Not like this, anyway. 

It doesn’t last long, maybe three minutes, but Danny’s never seen anything like it and never wants to again. After a few aborted dry heaves, Steve’s trembling so hard that he collapses to the lawn and lies there gasping. The desperate, gulping breaths, a remnant of the panic from before, slowly even out and it’s then that Danny can hear it. At first, Danny thought it was some noise that came along with crying — no one cries with any grace or dignity after all. But as Steve’s breathing quiets, Danny realizes that it’s words.

“You’re just sick. You can be better but you have to want it. Accept the pain, purge the sickness, discipline the mind and body.”

Steve repeats it with the same tenacity as a soldier would recite his name, rank, serial, and birthdate if he were facing torture. It’s a litany, a mantra. It’s the most terrible thing Danny has ever heard. He’s pretty sure he can guess where it came from. His stomach rolls, and for a moment he thinks he might be sick in the lawn right next to Steve, albeit for entirely different reasons.

But then Steve is up, all too soon in Danny’s opinion, and staggering back towards the house. 

“I’m gonna go for a run. I’ll take my keys. Lock up when you go.” 

Steve sounds wrecked, and Danny thinks he might not feel too much better. But before he can think of anything to say, the front door closes and Danny’s alone on the lanai. The profound hurt and emptiness he feels leaves him weighted down, exhausted, aching in a way that’s almost physical. It rivals the scooped out hollowness he had felt when Rachel left with Grace. 

At least he knows Grace is safe with Rachel — he’s never had to question that. Someone tortured Steve, tried to fix what wasn’t broken. 

Selfishly, Danny is mad, not just for Steve’s apparent issues, but because what could have become a perfectly good relationship is likely over. The intensity of Steve’s reaction — Danny doesn’t think there’s any getting over that. He’s not sure they’re going to survive this. Hell, he may get knocked back down to HPD. Danny clenches his jaw. They’ve got a good thing going here, he doesn’t want to lose it. In fact, he refuses to lose Chin and Kono just because of whatever fucked up shit is in Steve’s head. 

So he’ll give Steve his distance. He won’t force himself where he’s not wanted. And if a part of him hurts so much he can hardly breathe because _goddammit, Steve, who did that to you_ , well. He’s pretty sure his concern isn’t going to be welcome. 

He wants to scream, but he doesn’t. There’s no point. Still, the unfairness of it all hurts bone deep, aching right alongside his knee as he gets up and makes his way through the house, and maybe out of Steve’s life.

*

Steve isn’t sure why Danny doesn’t leave. He could take back his job in HPD — hell, he could take his Sergeant's exam and get a pay raise! But instead he comes into work the next day like nothing happened. 

Well, not like _nothing_ happened. Something definitely happened. Danny keeps his hands very much to himself and Steve doesn’t get called “babe” half as much. And maybe Danny suddenly has a social life so that he can’t hang out with Steve in their off time, but it’s not what Steve expected. He’s not sure _what_ he expected. 

But whatever Danny’s reasoning was, Danny’s change in behavior is enough that Steve never ends up filing the paperwork to reactivate with the Navy. It’s not like things magically get better — Steve can’t _not_ remember the warm feel of Danny against his side on the chaise lounge — but after two months of ice cold showers, swimming five miles every morning, running five more every night, and not touching himself for longer than it takes to piss, Steve feels like he’s getting it under control. 

Whatever Danny’s sexuality, and whatever Steve’s personal failings, Danny is a good friend and a great detective. Not once has he failed to back Steve up in the field. If nothing else, Steve can count on his work partner to keep him above ground. 

So when Danny shows up to a cookout at Steve’s with a girlfriend three months later, Steve is entirely unprepared. She’s Danny’s age and has curves in all the right places with a wit to boot. Danny looks happier with her than he has since Steve panicked that day in his living room. Steve is both relieved and crushed. 

When Danny introduces her to Steve he does his best to be polite, but he can tell he’s failed somehow by the face that Danny makes when Steve shakes her hand. 

It only takes Danny an hour to find a moment without her to confront Steve.

“What’s your problem?” Danny asks. His voice is quiet, but Steve can hear the anger anyway.

“I don’t have a problem,” Steve answers. Steve _lies_.

“The hell you don’t. You looked at her like she was a surface-to-surface missile that just landed in your yard. I wanna know why, especially after things didn’t work out between us,” Danny presses. Steve grips the edge of the grill like he might slide right off the surface of the earth and takes a deep breath.

 _Didn’t work out between them,_ like it was even a possibility, like they’d tried and failed. Steve swallows tightly. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean to stir up whatever this is,” Danny says, his voice suddenly soft. Steve wonders how obvious he is to everyone else in the yard.

He takes a deep breath, shakes his head, and forcibly loosens his grip. “It’s my fault. I never meant to lead you on. I’m not- I’m not _like that_.”

“‘Like that’?” Danny asks.

Steve swallows convulsively as his mouth waters, the remembered prelude to his healing sessions. “I’m not homosexual.”

“The word is ‘gay,’ Steven, although for me, you can say ‘bi’ or ‘bisexual’,” Danny says, something sharp and pained in his eyes.

Steve nods and looks back at the burgers on the grill with the knowledge that his own deficits are hurting Danny, but unsure of what else he could do.

“Say the words, Steven. It’s not contagious.”

Steve’s spent the better part of his adolescence and his entire adult life avoiding saying those words, avoiding even thinking of those words. But the pain in Danny’s voice makes him want to try. “Gay and bisexual,” he stutters out and then leans against the wall of the house, gagging. Thankfully, Danny knows better than to touch him this time.

“Jesus, Steve. Who did this to you?” Danny whispers once Steve has straightened back up. Danny’s hands are shoved into his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward, like he’s fighting himself to keep them there. Steve doesn’t understand why Danny would _want_ to touch him. 

Steve shakes his head and it makes his stomach roll. “It’s a sickness,” he explains, “a defect. They were trying to fix it.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Steve knows it before it’s even out of his mouth, but it’s like watching a wreck in slow motion and Steve can’t do anything to stop it. It’s the only justification he’s ever had, it’s a liferaft that he’s clung to for over two decades, and it’s literally the most he’s ever thought about it. Everything else hurts too much.

“Is that how you see me?” Danny asks, tone carefully neutral. There’s no accusation but the thought that Danny might think that Steve sees him like he sees himself is unacceptable.

“No, Danny. You’re… there’s nothing wrong with _you.”_ But Steve doesn’t really know if it it’s true because he’s never thought about it. Logically, if it’s wrong for Steve then it’s wrong for Danny, but Steve also knows that there’s nothing wrong with Danny. He can’t reconcile it, like math while drunk. It’s all beyond him.

Danny looks physically wounded. “I want to talk to you about this more, but now is very much not the time. Can I come over tonight, after I drop her at home?”

Steve nods absently because doing what Danny says seems easier than fighting. He’s spent his entire adult life fighting this. He’s _tired._

He’s just so fucking tired. 

*

It’s late when everyone leaves. Steve figures he has at least an hour, and rather than clean up, he tugs on his running shoes and heads out. He puts his head down and runs hard, hoping it will clear his mind.

It works. For a while. 

But Danny’s face keeps flashing into his mind, the pain and anger in his eyes drilling a hole through Steve. What is he going to want to talk about? What is he going to say? Everytime the questions come swirling through his brain, Steve runs faster, pushes his muscles harder. He doesn’t even know how to start guessing what’s going to happen when Danny arrives. 

He can’t pretend that’s not terrifying. 

By the time he gets back home, he’s drenched in sweat and his muscles are burning pleasantly. He feels almost settled. Or, at least as close to it as he’s gotten since Danny came into his life. He comes to a standstill as he starts to jog up to the house, a pit forming in the base of his stomach and all the good of the run erased in an instant. 

Danny’s sitting on the lanai, beer in hand. Steve can’t see his expression in the twilight gloom. Swallowing, Steve rubs his hands over his shorts. He wishes he had time to shower, to put on some more clothes. He wishes he hadn’t agreed to this. 

Determinedly not thinking of anything, Steve heads up from the beach. He can feel when Danny notices him. Steve pauses just out of reach, not sure if he should go sit down next to Danny. His hands close into fists without his permission. 

“Come sit, Steve,” Danny calls, gesturing with his beer, and Steve does. He doesn’t know what else to do. He keeps his shoulders squared and his jaw clenched. He tries not to glance at Danny out of the corner of his eye and fails. Danny’s slumped in his chair, eyebrows drawn low over his eyes. 

“I know a guy,” Danny says, voice rough. “Back home. Little older than us. He’d just turned seventeen when his parents found out he was gay. They had him committed. The doctors gave him ECT. Made him watch porn while they gave him drugs that made him puke ‘til he couldn’t stand.”

Steve closes his eyes, but it doesn’t do anything to stop the images flooding into his brain. He can smell the mix of bile and sweat, can hear the doctor’s nasally breathing over the breathy moans of the porn on the TV. 

He can hear Doris and the doctor talking through the wooden door, hear his mom’s voice saying, _“Not enough progress… you need to be more aggressive.”_

“They told him he was sick, but that they would make him better. He was far from the only one. Is that —” Danny breaks off, purses his lips and clenches his jaw. “Does that about cover it?”

Steve squeezes his fists until he feels his nails bite into his palms. He takes a shuddery breath and nods, because what else is there to say. 

Danny nods too, looking shaky as Steve feels. For a minute, all Steve can hear is the soft rhythm of the waves and the uneven rise and fall of Danny’s breath. 

Danny opens and closes his mouth a couple times, preparing to say something and backing off at the last moment. Steve’s never known Danny to back off anything and somehow that’s more disconcerting than all the rest. 

“Just say it,” Steve bites out, voice sharper than he means it to be. 

Steve thinks that Danny might refuse, but then Danny lets out a long sigh. He sets his beer down on the arm of the chair and reaches out to put a hand on Steve’s shoulder the way he hasn’t since that night. Steve can’t help the way his body flinches, wound tight as it is. Danny’s gaze is careful, but he doesn’t move his hand. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Neither of them say anything for a long time after that. 

*

In the end, they don’t talk about it anymore that night. They sit together for what must be an hour and then Danny stands and says goodnight. Steve’s too wrung out to feel much of anything and just takes himself to bed, hoping he doesn’t dream. 

Steve’s worried things are going to be off when he gets into work the next day, but Danny’s his normal self — or at least, normal as of three weeks ago. The only exception is, there are times during the day where Steve catches Danny looking at him with a tremendous sorrow in his eyes. Steve doesn’t know how to deal with that, so he doesn’t. 

Apparently, Danny doesn’t know how to deal, either, because they don’t talk about it for over a week.

*

“So I know that what your parents did to you is still an open wound, and maybe it’s selfish of me because I’m interested in you, but I think what happened is still something we ought to talk about,” Danny says.

Steve is frankly impressed with himself when he doesn’t actually run into any other motorists. His entire focus has been devoted to mentally mapping the cartel’s network on Molokai and then, out of nowhere, Danny had apparently decided that it was time to discuss _that_.

Instantly, Steve’s panic response ticks up. 

“Easy,” Danny says like he’s calming a skittish horse. “We don’t have to do anything, okay? Can you just listen to me a minute?”

Steve’s knuckles have gone white where he’s gripping the steering wheel. The last thing he wants to do is talk about this. He doesn’t really know if he’s capable of it. 

But fuck it, it’s Danny, and Steve doesn’t know if he can stand for things to stay the way they are. He knows it’s sick and wrong and that he should be better than this, but he misses Danny’s casual touches and the way he called Steve “babe” like it was no big deal. 

Fuck, he’s so _sick_. 

He grips the steering wheel tighter, until his hands cramp and shoot with pain. _Accept the pain, purge the sickness._

But if Steve just disciplines himself enough, if he works hard enough and does everything he needs to do, then things can just go back to normal. They can forget this ever happened. And if this is what Danny needs to do that — so that they can go back to being _friends_ …

Steve nods sharply. 

Danny licks his lips, looking suddenly nervous. “Steve, you get that if I’m not sick for being bi, you’re not sick either, right? That doesn’t make any sense. If there’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Blood rushes in his ears. He doesn’t know if Danny says anything else because he can’t fucking hear, because he can’t think about that. 

Because Danny’s _not_ sick. Danny’s the furthest thing from sick. Danny is fucking perfect and infuriating and unyielding. This kind of sickness couldn’t ever get inside Danny. But if Danny’s not sick — if Danny’s not sick then — then — 

Steve can still see his mom’s disgust. He can still feel the bite of his dad’s belt. He remembers how they wouldn’t let him and Mary be alone, how they took the door off his bedroom. He remembers the first session with the doctor, how he and Doris promised to rid Steve of his _perversion_. 

He didn’t believe it, not at first. He clung to the idea that there was nothing wrong with him. But he was _wrong_. It wasn’t right, it wasn’t natural, it — 

“They put shit in your head, Steve. Your parents and whatever crackhead they made you see, they were wrong. They’re the ones who were sick. And I refuse to let them take this from us. ‘Cause we could be good, Steve, we could be so damn good together.”

Nausea starts to pool in Steve’s gut. He can’t think about _that,_ about him and Danny — him and Danny _together._ That is the last thing in the world he should let himself think about. 

“And I’d never force you, Steve. Not ever. But I am here and I’m not going anywhere, when you decide you’re ready to fight this fucking bullshit, I will be there every step of the way. Even if you never want me the way I want you. I won’t _stop,_ Steve, not until you can be happy with who you are.”

 _Happy,_ Steve thinks, _has never really been an option._

*

They don’t say any more about it that day, or the next, or for several weeks after that. 

Steve tries not to think about it. But the same way Danny has always had the ability to cut through Steve’s carefully erected defenses, Danny’s words seem to come back to him no matter what he does. 

It’s just a quiet voice, a little _what if they were wrong_ when Steve cuts off an admiring thought on Danny’s new shirt. A _what if you didn’t have to do this_ as he forces himself through another brutal morning run. A _what if you could be happy_ when he wakes gasping from a nightmare, barely making the trash can he keeps by his bedside for what is definitely not this purpose. 

And Danny just keeps being Danny, like they didn’t ever have that conversation. He’s still careful with his touches, but he’s back to doling them out at a steady rate. _Babe_ falls off his lips more readily. 

He keeps seeing that woman for a couple more weeks, just shrugs when he tells Steve they broke up, like it was no big deal. Two weeks later, he starts talking about this guy he met. His eyes always swing carefully over Steve when it comes up, but he doesn’t stop himself from talking about it — doesn’t seem to care who knows. 

It eats into Steve’s brain, keeps him up at night. He swings from wondering how Danny can possibly be okay with everyone knowing to horrified guilt-ridden flashes of what Danny might be doing with him. He runs faster and swims longer and takes more punishingly cold showers. 

The entire six weeks the relationship lasts, Steve is exhausted and twitchy. He’s puking more than he has in years and he can tell by the way Danny starts bringing him malasadas every morning that it’s having an effect. 

When they break it off, Danny comes in angry and upset. Steve wishes he were brave enough to ask what happened, but Kono’s the one who gets the question out. Danny scoffs. “Turns out he wasn’t quite as okay with me being bi as he said he was. Fuck him.”

And somehow that makes Steve angry too. Because there’s nothing wrong with Danny. 

There’s nothing wrong with Danny. 

*

“Daniel Williams,” Steve bites out to the nurse at the front desk. She is entirely too slow logging into her computer. “5-0. Came in a half hour ago with a head wound.”

She’s taking so long and Steve idly wonders what it would take to force open the doors to the emergency ward. But before he has to wait any longer, someone is coming out and Steve sprints to catch the door before it clicks back shut. As he makes his way into the bay, there’s a screen with last names and room numbers. He checks the rest of the list to make sure there’s only one “Williams” with “head trauma” next to his name before he bursts in on some poor unsuspecting soul, and then he makes a beeline for his partner, winding around people and equipment as he goes. 

He’d gotten half a call from Chin, something about Danny heading to the hospital with a head wound and then sirens and then Chin hanging up. He’d been on the other side of town from the hospital, of course, and had seemed to hit every red light in the goddamn city. 

He imagines Danny’s head cracked open and bleeding, he imagines Danny hooked up to machines that he can’t name even after his many trips to the ER, he imagines Danny comatose and not waking up. He’s seen it happen, more than once. Knows soldiers who lost their whole careers to a good hit to the head, lost their ability to think straight, or speak, or walk, and he can’t fucking lose Danny that way, he just can’t. 

He bursts through the door, heart racing and preparing for the worst. 

Danny’s sitting up on the bed laughing. He’s got a big white bandage on the side of his head and there’s blood — in his hair, over most of his shirt, matted into his chest hair, even a few drips on his pants — but he’s _fine._

All the tension goes out of Steve so abruptly that he can’t process it. His body starts to shake. 

Danny looks over, smiling. The smile falls off his face immediately and he starts to get up. 

“Steve?” He’s saying. “What happened?”

The nurse starts to say that Danny needs to get back in bed, but Danny just brushes past her, tugging at the IV pole that he’s tethered to. His shirt’s hanging open, EKG leads still stuck to him, he hasn’t even been given a gown. Christ, there’s _so much_ blood on his shirt. 

“I —” Steve starts, but he’s not sure what to say and Chin and the nurse are _right there_ and —. 

“Can we have the room please?” Danny says, that quiet authority in his voice. The nurse protests, something about finishing her checks, but Chin puts a gentle hand on her elbow and tows her out of the room and then it’s just Steve and Danny. Danny comes close, looking so goddamn careful like Steve’s the one who got hurt. 

“Steve?” Danny says softly, puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder and what if Steve never got to have this again? He’d barely been able to stand it, those three weeks Danny had pulled away. No one ever touched him with so much kindness as Danny did. 

What if he’d lost him? What if Steve never got the chance to see him again? It could happen. It could happen every goddamn day of this job. Danny could die and they’d never have — 

Steve would have never — 

Steve has never wanted to touch someone so much as he wants to touch Danny. It’s fucking terrifying. It shouldn’t be allowed. And Danny is still standing there, waiting for Steve, waiting for Steve to be brave, to fight. 

Steve doesn’t know how to be this kind of brave, he doesn’t know how to fight this kind of battle. 

But Danny’s standing there with blood in his hair and his favorite pair of slacks ruined and his gaze is so careful and more than anything, Steve can’t risk losing Danny if Danny still thinks he’s a coward. 

“Danny,” Steve whispers. Something in Danny’s eyes changes. 

“Yeah?” and is Steve making it up that there’s hope in his voice?

Steve firms up his tone. He shoves the shakes somewhere dark and deep. He tells himself _There’s nothing wrong with Danny,_ cause that’s the only truth he knows for sure. 

“I want to fight.”

Danny’s body relaxes. He smiles. His lip is split too and it breaks open and starts to bleed again. Somehow, that feels appropriate. “Good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please continue to mind the tags and practice self-care while you read.

Danny calls his friend Michael as soon as he’s settled in back at home and has washed the blood out of his hair. It’s early enough in the evening that even with the time difference, Danny’s pretty sure that Michael will be awake. 

And sure enough, Michael answers on the third ring, with a friendly, “Hey Danny!”

Michael and Danny had met the very first time Danny braved a gay bar. Things had still been pretty rough with his parents then, and Michael had pretty much taken Danny under his wing. Michael had always been a shoulder to lean on when things were tough, and Danny had looked up to for a long time, even before he knew the horrors of Michael’s past. 

“Hey. How’s it going?” Danny starts, wandering into the kitchen. He’s been cleared for a little tylenol and his head is starting to properly throb now, so he flips the lid off one handed. 

They catch up briefly, but Danny can’t keep his brain off Steve — the wild-eyed determination that had flashed across Steve’s face in that ER room keeps coming back to him, making his breath catch every time. 

“What’s really up, Danny?” Michael asks. “Something’s bothering you.”

Danny bites his lip. Michael’s never been shy about discussing his past, but somehow this feels different, like Danny might be asking too much. “It’s my partner,” he says, voice coming out rough and tender sounding. He winces, hearing it, sure that Michael can tell just how much Danny cares for Steve. “At work. And, uh, personal partner, too. Hopefully. He — he had conversion therapy. Like you.”

Michael puffs out a heavy breath, sending static crackling across the line, but doesn’t say anything else. Danny takes that as his cue, and keeps going. 

“And — and —” Danny rubs a hand over his face, wincing when he accidentally pulls at his stitches. Honesty, he decides, is the best policy. “I’m interested in him. But he — he’s still pretty stuck in the ways they made him think. He says he wants to try, but I don’t think he’s ever been with another man before and God, Michael, I’m just so worried about fucking it up. How the fuck do I help him, y’know?” 

“Jeez,” Michael hisses. “Danny, that’s a fuck of a lot to take on. You know that, right? Like there ain’t _nothing_ about this that’ll be easy.”

“I know,” Danny says, and he does. His shoulders feel heavy with the weight of it, but it’s _Steve_ and honestly, Danny can’t sit back and do nothing. 

“You really care about him, huh?” Michael’s voice has gone soft, the way it has always done when he asked Danny to share of himself. 

“Yeah,” Danny admits, cause it’s not like there’s any hiding it. 

“It’s so fucking hard to let go of that shit. They pile it on so heavy, they change the entire way you think. They make you hate yourself right down to the core of who you are.” Danny’s heart just about breaks, thinking about Michael and Steve feeling that way. “And they make you so goddamn afraid. But — if he’s willing to try, if he wants to be with you... That’s fuckin’ huge, man.”

Danny nods his understanding, forgetting for a moment that Michael can’t see him. 

“Would he be willing to see someone, do you think? A shrink?”

“I don’t think so,” Danny says, because he knows Steve. 

“Yeah, fair enough,” Michael sighs, something heavy and broken in his voice. “God knows there were years and years where I couldn’t trust anyone in the psych business. Got there, eventually, but only after I’d done a hell of a lot of other work. I think — the first thing to do is just to let him trust you, ‘cause it sounds like that’s what he can do right now. And I don’t know what that will look like for you guys. Maybe it means he talks to you. Maybe it means he lets you touch him, in non-sexual ways. Maybe you just keep doing whatever you’re doing, ‘cause clearly that’s doing something.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. Steve is hurting, he’s hurting in ways that Danny can’t comprehend. Danny doesn’t know if he can just sit and wait. 

“I don’t know if he’ll do any of that,” Danny admits, hating the crack in his voice. “I — I kissed him, once. Before I knew. And he had a panic attack. Puked.” 

“Yeah.” Danny can hear the wince in Michael’s words. “That’s how it goes sometimes. And I’m not gonna lie to you, that’s probably not gonna stop. You might be years into this and there will still be nights he can’t stand for you to touch him. And if you’re not up for that — you gotta call it now, Danny. Don’t be someone he can trust and then take it away.”

“I won’t,” Danny swears. And that, at least, he knows is true. He has no idea what he’s doing. He’s desperately afraid he’s going to fuck it up. But he’s not leaving Steve in this, he’s _not._ He will leave Steve alone in this over his dead body and not a minute before. 

And it seems like that might be all he can do, at least for now. 

*

Michael gives him the name of a friend of his, a psychologist who helped him through some rough times. _Most docs wouldn’t give you advice for your partner like this,_ Michael says, _but Val gets it. Her wife lived through it._

A couple more tips and a heartfelt wish of luck and they hang up, with Danny promising to check in soon. Danny goes to bed, exhausted, but ends up getting his laptop out and spending a solid four hours googling. He’d researched before, of course, when he realized what must have happened to Steve. But now his google searches take on a particular bent — _how do i support my abused boyfriend,_ because Danny doesn’t know how to start. 

He doesn’t really learn anything he didn’t already know, and when he wakes in the morning, his whole head is throbbing. He downs some more tylenol and calls Steve, making sure it’s alright for him to swing by. 

_Don’t invade his space without permission,_ Michael had said and the internet had echoed. 

Steve says yes and his voice only sounds mildly strained, so Danny takes him at his word and heads over around noon. 

He doesn’t usually ring the doorbell, and he doesn’t really want to start now. He and Steve have a thing going that’s working for them and Danny knows that he above all, he needs to trust his knowledge of Steve. Steve won’t want too much to change, Danny’s confident of that. So he lets himself in, calling out as he does. 

But as he expects, Steve’s not in the house. He’s out on the lanai, nursing a cup of black coffee. He looks up when Danny approaches and tries to smile, but his whole body goes rigid, like he expects Danny to pounce him right then and there. 

Danny ignores the look and plops down in the other seat. 

“I forgot how much head wounds suck,” he complains. “Everything fucking hurts.”

Steve gives him this look, like he thinks Danny’s being obtuse. That, at least, is familiar enough. 

Danny smiles. “Nothing has to change,” he says, voice a little lower. “Right now all we need to know is that we care about each other. And we already knew that, pain in my ass that you are. Things will change when we’re ready for them to.”

Steve nods slowly, looking like he’s processing that. They’re quiet for a moment. 

“So how’d you get your head smashed open, anyway?” Steve asks, and if his voice is a little awkward, his face a little stiff, Danny knows better than to say it. 

He knows Steve, and for now, that’s just going to have to be enough. 

*

It should be said that Danny is not the most patient of men. So it was all well and good when he told Steve that nothing has to change; it’s quite another thing to try and live it. 

The point of the whole thing is that he _wants_ Steve. And that doesn’t go away because he knows Steve’s a little fucked in the head. So he keeps wanting to touch Steve and be close to him, and yeah kiss him and fuck him and all of it. And it fucking sucks that he can’t have it. 

But he grits his teeth and manages, because the last thing he wants to do is hurt Steve or spook him into changing his mind. So he jerks off a lot more than normal and spends a probably embarrassing amount of time fantasizing about just cuddling with the man. 

There are days where he wonders if anything is ever going to change, or if they’re just going to be stuck in this weird platonic not-relationship forever. There are bad moments where he wonders if he can really do this. There are worse moments when he wonders if Steve is really capable of getting better. 

But the fact of the matter is that he loves the man. He wants Steve to be well and he wants to be a part of Steve’s life in whatever way Steve will have him. 

And eventually, his self-discipline starts to pay off. Steve starts to move into— instead of away from— Danny’s casual touches. He stops glancing around furtively every time Danny calls him babe. He stops getting that pale cast to his face every time Danny makes a reference to their relationship. 

And then, one night while they’re watching a movie at Danny’s, Steve comes back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn. He pauses in the doorway. He studies the couch like it’s a tactical op. Danny keeps his body open and relaxed. He very carefully doesn’t move. 

Steve moves further into the room. He edges up to the couch. And instead of plopping down one seat cushion over like he usually does, he carefully sits down right next to Danny. He’s close enough that Danny can feel the heat of his body. Steve’s body is tense and he’s got a major case of Aneurysm Face, but Danny doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move an inch. 

Slowly, Steve’s body begins to unwind. Danny can feel his weight settle into the cushion. The fragile intensity of the moment fades and then they’re just sitting next to each other on the couch, almost touching, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

Danny wants to scream the success from the rooftops. He wants to cry, because this shouldn’t be such a huge win. He wants to throw an arm around Steve’s shoulder and haul him close and kiss his temple. 

He doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, he carefully lifts his hands and reaches over for the bowl of popcorn. He keeps his attention on the movie. 

He can’t keep the silly grin off his face, though. 

*

“I want you to kiss me,” Steve says, looking as though he’s suggesting Danny perform a root canal or something. It’s not a particularly convincing expression. 

They’ve been at this three months now and they have progressed to sitting next to each other on the couch, Steve’s arm around Danny’s shoulders. They can’t do the other way yet, which everyone Danny has talked to says is about expected gender roles, which is apparently harder, in some ways, to overcome, since Steve was probably taught those his whole life. 

The point is, this feels a little bit out of left field and not something they’re really ready for yet. But Danny also knows that this is Steve’s show, and he has to follow Steve’s lead. And also Steve is a stubborn ass who has the patience of a five-year-old, so Danny’s not exactly surprised that Steve’s trying to forge ahead. 

Still, as much as he’d _like_ to kiss Steve, he’s seen more convincing propositions on reality TV, and he’s from _Jersey_. 

“Are you sure, babe?” he asks, keeping his voice neutral as possible. “You don’t seem very excited by the prospect.”

Steve takes a deep breath in through his nose, nostrils flaring. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Danny’s not completely convinced, but he’s as determined as ever to let Steve take the lead here. “Okay,” he says. “Where do you want me?”

Steve looks a little startled, like he expected Danny to come right at him. “Oh,” he says, but focus quickly enters his gaze. “Can you stand right there?” Steve points to an empty space against the wall and Danny nods, seeing the reasoning immediately. Danny will be boxed in, with a heavy bookshelf on one side and the couch on the other, giving Steve all the power. If that’s what Steve needs to feel in control of the situation, Danny’s alright with that. 

He gets up and takes his position, trying not to feel like he’s prepping for a fight. Steve comes over slowly and Danny lets himself admire him — not openly, knowing that would only freak Steve out, but discreetly, the way he’s learned how. Steve is a gorgeous man, there’s no denying that. 

As Steve comes into his space, Danny purposefully relaxes his body. He smiles. “I’m really excited to kiss you,” he says, keeping his voice soft. Surprise flickers across Steve’s face, but it quickly passes, and Steve smiles, a shy, happy thing Danny hasn’t seen before. 

Steve presses in closer, though he keeps plenty of space between their bodies. He leans in. It’s far from the sexiest thing Danny’s ever seen, with the stubborn determination in Steve’s eyes and the pale cast to his face, but it’s _Steve_ , so it hardly matters. Danny tilts his face, leaning up slightly to meet him. 

And then they’re kissing. Steve’s lips are stiff at first, but they relax as they go. Both of them keep their mouths carefully shut. Danny’s starting to ease into it, eyes starting to flutter shut, when Steve suddenly pulls back, breathing sharply through his nose. 

He scrambles back a couple steps and then leans over, bracing his hands on his knees. He’s looking very pale. Danny quickly scans the room for the closest trash can and jogs over to grab it, carefully avoiding getting in to Steve’s space. 

Setting it below Steve’s head, Danny backs up, giving him room. “Shut that voice up,” Danny says. “It’s bullshit.” They’re the agreed upon words, harsher than what Danny might have chosen, but what Steve had requested, so he didn’t argue. 

Steve makes an awful gagging sound, clearly trying his hardest not to puke. Danny shoves his hands in his pockets, doing his best not to reach out to try and comfort. He knows it would only make the situation worse. 

Steve keeps struggling for long minutes, until there are tears leaking from his eyes. And Danny just has to stand there and witness it all and it fucking sucks. He wishes there was something he could _do._

But eventually, Steve gets himself through it. He stands up, face pale and sweaty, but a look of triumph in his eyes. Danny realizes, suddenly and painfully, that this _is_ a triumph. This is probably the first time Steve has kissed a man without puking, maybe ever. Danny still doesn’t know if Steve had any experience with guys before his parents fucked him up so much, but he sort of doubts it. 

So when Steve turns that look of triumph to Danny, Danny ignores the ache in his chest. He makes himself grin, makes himself be grateful for the kiss no matter how horribly it ended because even if he can’t _feel_ it right now, this is a big step. 

In the end, it’s all worth it for the way that tension seeps out of Steve’s shoulders as he grins, albeit a little weakly, right back at Danny. 

*

Kisses come on the regular from there on out. And when Danny says regular, he means _regular._ Steve kisses him when he arrives at Steve’s house and when he leaves, never anywhere else and never any other time. The kiss is always a short, perfunctory thing without much feeling, but Danny takes what he can get. 

Other things progress too. There’s a night where they’re both sitting on the couch reading — Danny a novel his mom had suggested and Steve diligently struggling through a recommendation from Michael — when all of a sudden Steve snaps his books closed and says, “Put your arm around me.”

Danny stares at him a moment, taken aback. But when the stubborn set to Steve’s jaw doesn’t change, he slowly lifts his arm and puts it around Steve’s broad shoulders. 

“This okay, babe?” Danny checks. Steve nods, so Danny ignores the rigidity in his body, and studiously goes back to his book. It takes a while, but Steve does relax. He even goes so far as to lean his weight into Danny. Danny never tries to hide his smiles at moments like these. Steve needs to know that Danny is happy, despite everything. 

A breakthrough is made when Steve spontaneously tugs Danny into a hug _in public,_ no less. Of course it’s a brief, manly hug with lots of black slapping, but Danny recognizes the monumental courage required for Steve to initiate that contact in front of others. After that, other casual touches get added to their repertoire — a hand on his shoulder, a slap on the back. 

In private, they add a hand on the back of his neck, touching his hair, and pressing their legs together. Hugs start to linger. Even their kisses get longer, more intense. 

*

They’re not quite 9 months into this thing when Steve comes to him and says, “I want to try something.” 

He’s got that grim determination in his eyes that Danny has come to associate with steps forward in their relationship. Those steps are often painful, gut wrenching things, but it’s usually worth it in the long run. 

A frisson of excitement runs through Danny, even though Steve looks like he’s swallowed a lime. Danny has come to know that particular expression, and it usually means he gets to touch the man he loves in some new and much anticipated way. 

Danny sits up, but keeps his body relaxed. “Yeah?” he invites. 

“I want to make out,” Steve says, like he’s saying _I want you to cover the back exit,_ but Danny’s used to that tone, too, and he can’t help the way his heart skips a beat and heat settles into his stomach. 

“I’d really like that.” Danny’s voice comes out rough and wanting, which makes him wince a little. But instead of scaring Steve off, a new level of determination settles into his eyes. “Where do you want me?”

“On the couch,” Steve directs. Danny pops out of his arm chair. Unlike when they’ve taken other steps forward, they’re not at Steve’s place, and Danny worries about that for a minute before he reminds himself that Steve knows what he’s doing and what he needs and Danny just needs to trust him. “Lying down. I’m going to be on top of you.” Steve hesitates, quickly adds, “If that’s okay.”

“More than, babe.” Danny quickly takes position, propping himself up on his pillow. “What do you want me to do with my hands?”

“You can touch my back. But —” Steve clenches his teeth around the next words. Two spots of color appear on his cheeks. Fuck, Danny loves this man. “Not any lower?”

“You got it.” 

It takes a couple minutes for Steve to get up his nerve. Danny spends them taking deep, slow breaths and reminding his body that it needs to chill the fuck out because if he gets visibly worked up that will _definitely_ scare Steve off. 

Finally, Steve comes over. He starts by perching on the side of the couch, leaning over and pressing a tentative kiss to Danny’s lips. Danny wants to run his hands over every inch of Steve because fuck it feels so amazing to have him pressed this close. But it’s a fine line between pleasure and terror for Steve. Danny slows himself down and recalls all the things he knows that Steve enjoys, sticking entirely to those touches. 

Slowly, Steve relaxes into it, and they fall into something a little more natural, a little less scripted. In some ways, it feels like the very first time Danny’s actually kissing _Steve._ As they get into it, Steve’s body language gets a little more confident. He starts to nibble at Danny’s bottom lip and it must be the way Steve actually _likes_ to kiss, when he’s not so anxious he can’t move. 

Then Steve’s rolling over on top of Danny, weight settling on him, heavy and real. Danny lets his legs part, feels Steve settle in between them and fuck, he’s been missing this and wanting it so bad he can’t breathe with it, some nights, and it feels _so damn good_ to have Steve right there in his space. 

Danny doesn’t even notice himself getting hard until Steve rocks down into him and goes absolutely rigid. Before Danny can completely process what’s happening, Steve is scrabbling to get off him and then he’s leaning over the side of the couch and puking. His left hand is buried in his hair, tugging so hard it has to hurt. 

Carefully, Danny sits up. He angles his body away from Steve, so that his quickly flagging erection isn’t quite as noticeable. He doesn’t touch Steve, though he desperately wants to — just a reassuring hand on his back, _something_ that isn’t just sitting there, watching Steve puke his guts up. 

“Fuck,” Steve rasps between dry heaves. “Fuck.”

Finally, _finally_ , it stops. Steve wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, buries his face in his hands, and starts to cry. Somehow, that’s even worse. He’s absolutely silent, just the trembling of his shoulders giving him away. 

“It’s never going to get better, is it,” Steve bites out. 

Danny’s chest hurts. He can’t draw in a full breath. “It will,” he swears. “It _will._ It _has_ Steve, it’s been going so well. It really has.”

Steve scoffs, which almost turns into another dry heave, before he cuts it off. “It has not been going well. I can barely touch you. I can kiss you like you’d kiss your fuckin’ mother. I want —” Steve stops himself, teeth clenching against the words. 

“What do you want?” Danny asks, turning towards him more fully now. He carefully avoids the puke on the floor, silently writes off the carpet as a loss. He studiously ignores the smell, too, something he’s sadly getting a lot better at. “We’ve never talked about it.”

“I-” Steve stops before he even really starts. “I’m gonna clean this up,” he says and stands up, disappearing into the kitchen. Danny sighs, collapsing back into the couch. 

He rubs a hand over his face, tries to wipe the frustration from his face before Steve comes back. By the way Steve’s expression closes down even further, Danny doesn’t think he’s very successful. 

Damn it. It had been such a promising night, too. 

*

Every day for a week after that, Steve gags whenever he tries to kiss Danny. He winces whenever Danny calls him _babe._ It feels like they’ve take five giant steps backwards. 

Danny wants to scream. He wants to fuck his frustration out. He wants to punch somebody. 

He’s not above admitting that he’s a complete and utter asshole to pretty much everyone that week. He just can’t seem to bite back his anger, even when Steve’s in the room. And he can tell that it’s having an effect on Steve, in the way his shoulders have settled into a seemingly permanent, tense line and the way he’s been skipping lunch. 

Later, Danny’s not proud of the way he snaps at Steve. Later, he regrets a lot of things. 

The team agrees to order in, knowing that they’re not going to get a break any time soon. Once Danny’s got everybody else’s order, he goes in to Steve’s office. 

“We’re getting Chinese,” he informs. “What do you want.”

“Nothing, I’m good.” Steve’s eyes are sunken and his cheek bones are starting to stick out too much. His skin looks gray. The team’s started to notice and Danny’s tired of making excuses. 

“Goddamn it, Steve. You have to fucking eat, I get that you’re fucking sick of puking, but you have to _eat_ , man."

Steve looks up, eyes panicked, flying to the window where they can see the team looking in. 

“Shut up,” Steve hisses. Heat courses through Danny as anger builds. He’s tired and he’s worried and he fucking misses _his_ Steve. 

“I will not shut up,” Danny says right back, though he makes note to keep his voice low. “I know things are tough right now, but that doesn’t mean you can stop taking care of yourself.”

Steve’s jaw flexes, chin going hard and stubborn. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fucking fine,” Danny says, actively restraining himself from shouting. “You haven’t been fine in a long time, if you ever have.”

“Do we have to discuss this here?” Steve asks. He gets up and closes the shades on his window and if Danny was more himself he would have noticed how close to panic Steve is, how much this is all putting him on edge. 

Danny throws his hands up instead. “What’s even the point? I don’t know why I try.”

Steve’s posture goes military precise as he swings around to look at Danny, eyes going wide. The panic is clear in Steve’s voice, this time, the tightness and breathlessness as familiar to Danny as anything Steve does. “What do you mean?”

"I didn't mean it like that," Danny says softly, realizing suddenly that could have sounded like a prelude to breaking up. Feeling a headache coming on, “Sometimes it just doesn’t seem like you really want my help. Like you don’t even want to make it work.” 

It’s something that haunts him, late at night. It’s not that he really believes it. He just gets tired. He works so hard and he wants so much and everything moves so _slow._ He regrets it as soon as it’s out of his mouth. 

Steve goes still, lips pressing together so hard that the skin around them goes white. 

“Fuck,” Danny swears. “I’m not saying it to hurt you. I just — fuck.”

“I do,” Steve says quietly. “I do want to get better, Danny. I want a lot of things. I just — I don’t know how to want them.” Steve shakes his head, lips turned down and eyes dark. “That doesn’t even make sense —”

“It does,” Danny interjects. “Of course you don’t know how to want it. Why the fuck would you? I just — I don’t know how to fucking help, Steve, and I feel so goddamn helpless. I just want you to feel good, to be happy.”

Steve laughs, a bitter, sharp thing that makes Danny ache. 

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

And maybe that’s what Danny has been feeling — that Steve doesn’t _believe_ he can get better. Not that he doesn’t want too, just that he doesn’t really see it happening. And that kind of pessimism is just really fucking hard to live with. 

Danny’s done hearing that shit, he won’t take it anymore _._ Steve deserves to be happy, and it will happen. It has to. “Of course you can. Even — even if it’s not with me. I know you can be happy, Steve. You’ll figure it out.”

Steve turns to him, aghast. “Danny,” he says, “If I’m going to be happy with anyone, it’s going to be with you. I wouldn’t even try with anyone else. You’ve got to know that.”

Danny’s whole body kind of shivers with the words. “Oh,” he mutters, for lack of anything better. He’s not sure he _did_ know that. He’d sort of started to think that maybe he was making Steve miserable, maybe Steve regretted every agreeing to fight for them. 

“I —” Steve starts, and then looks around at his office. There are things that Steve is incapable of saying here, Danny knows that. But as Steve shakes his head and goes a little paler, Danny can’t help wondering what those things would be. “Get me some Kung Pao chicken, okay?”

Danny nods, taking it as the peace offering it is. Later, when they’re alone, away from work. Then they can be honest, then they can say everything that needs to be said. For now, he just lets himself be relieved that Steve’s going to eat something, for once. 

*

Steve curls his hands into fists, breathing slowly through his nose. He ignores the pounding of his heart and lifts his hand to knock on Danny’s door. 

He can hear a muffled _Coming!_ shouted from somewhere inside. Steve grits his teeth and steels his nerve. 

Danny smiles, big and bright, when he opens the door and goes in for a hug. “Steve! I wasn’t expecting you!”

Hustling him through the door, Danny waits until the door is closed to lean in for an enthusiastic kiss. Steve steadfastly ignores the desire to check the curtains and lock the door behind them, reminding himself that they’re safe, that there’s no one coming for them. Danny even dares to run a hand up and down Steve’s back. 

Steve trembles a little with pent up desire. God, he misses intimacy like this. He misses _sex._

“Hey, babe.” Danny pulls back, still smiling, though he keeps one hand thrown around Steve’s shoulders. Steve lets his hands come down and land on Danny’s hips, sees a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Not that they don’t do this, but usually only with planning. 

“Hi,” Steve says and leans back in, pulling Danny into another kiss. He lets his lips relax, his eyes close. He lets one hand push up under Danny’s t-shirt, enjoying the feel of his warm, soft skin. He crowds a little closer. 

“Whoa, hey, hold on,” Danny says. He doesn’t step out of Steve’s embrace, but he does pull away from the kiss. “Now don’t get me wrong, I’m totally in favor of this, but we usually talk about things like this first.”

“I’m tired of talking about things,” Steve grumbles, trying to duck down to kiss Danny again. Danny turns his cheek. 

“Yes, okay, I get that. Talking is —” Steve tugs Danny a little closer, slips his hand a little higher up Danny’s back. Danny makes a funny choking noise. “Talking is not my favorite either, but let’s not be stupid, here.”

“What’s wrong with stupid?” Steve presses a kiss to Danny’s jawline — it’s sharp and bristly — and yes, there’s a little nausea building in his gut, but he resolutely ignores it. 

Danny’s voice is tight and heated when he manages to say, “Fuck, babe. You are making this very — difficult. No, no. I mean it. We need to talk about this.” Danny gently presses him back by his shoulders, extricating himself carefully. 

Equal parts frustration and relief rise in Steve’s chest. The relief wins out and he takes a step back, breathing slowly. Danny’s face is flushed in a very satisfying manner. Steve doesn’t let himself wonder or check if there’s been an effect anywhere else. 

“Come sit,” Danny says and his voice has gone all rough. “I need a glass of water.”

So Steve follows Danny into the kitchen. He does his best to keep his brain quiet, even though it is doing it’s best to panic. God, he was acting so desperate for it. For a _man._ How could he be so undisciplined, let his perversion take over — 

No. 

He cuts himself off firmly. Those thoughts are wrong and Steve has spent over a year now trying to whittle them away from nothing. He wants this. He’s not wrong for wanting this. Securing those thoughts in his mind, Steve sits himself down at Danny’s kitchen table and watches him collect himself. Steve lets himself be pleased that he could have such an effect on Danny, who’s generally so good about keeping his desire hidden away, even if it’s only to keep from freaking Steve out. 

Not any longer. Steve is done with being careful and not pushing. They’ve been careful for a long time, now it’s time for a new tactic. 

“Okay, Steve. Talk me through what’s happening.”

Steve sighs, trying to gather the words to explain. “We’ve tried it this way,” Steve starts. “We’ve tried talking it all out and going slowly and — I think we’re stalled out. I think we need to push through.”

Danny turns considering blue eyes on him, watching carefully. “You know that’s going to suck, right? You know there’s going to panic attacks and puking and nightmares, right?”

Fighting back an instinctual shiver, Steve nods. He does know. And the truth of the matter is that he’s had relatively few of those in the last month. He feels safe with what they’re doing. He wants _more._

More doesn’t feel safe at all. But it’s never going to feel safe, Steve doesn’t think. 

“I can deal with it." 

Danny purses his lips. “I know you can. I just don’t want to erase the progress you’ve made.”

“It might, at first,” Steve says reasonably, because despite what it might seem like to Danny, he has thought this all through. “It might for a while. But I think — I think I just need to learn that it’s safe. And the only way to learn that is to do it.”

Licking his lips, Danny asks, “Have you talked to Michael about this?”

Feeling the back of his neck heat, Steve nods again. He hates talking about this with anyone, but he gets the importance of talking to other people who’ve been through the same shit. Michael’s even introduced him to online support groups. Steve doesn’t ever participate — almost all of them are a full decade older than him — but sometimes he likes to read what other people are saying, what other people have lived. 

“Good,” Danny says softly. “Alright, I’m willing to try this with you, babe, but we gotta have some ground rules, okay?”

Steve sighs, though he’s not surprised. “Okay,” he agrees.

“So I guess you’re not going to want to stop if you puke? Or panic?” Danny looks a little sick at the thought, himself. Steve clenches his jaw, realizing that he’s asking a lot of Danny. Danny’s going to have to be okay with pushing Steve through some really shitty times — it’s not only going to be Steve suffering. 

Suddenly, he wonders if this is a really good idea. 

“Okay,” Danny says, nodding shakily. “Okay. So if you puke, you get up, brush your teeth, come back. Gives us both a breather. Sound good?”

Steve nods, a little tightness creeping into his chest. 

“And we’ll have whatever we need on hand — trash cans, bags, that sort of thing,” Danny mutters, seeming like he’s mostly talking to himself. “And if you panic —” Danny stops to take a deep breath. Steve ducks his chin, knowing how much Danny hates seeing him hurt that way. “We’ll stay where we are, but we stop whatever we’re doing. At least — at least until you stop panicking, anyway. And then, I guess, we take it from there.”

Danny stops, sets his face in his hands. “Fuck, Steve. This is going to suck.”

“You get to call it,” Steve rasps. Danny looks up at him, brow cocked curiously. “If it’s too much, if you need to stop. You get to say so. Or, if you can’t do it that day. It’s fine. I don’t want you to hurt too much in this.”

Bracing himself, Steve reaches out, cups Danny’s cheek. He rubs a tentative thumb over his stubble. When Danny smiles, Steve’s thumb slips into his dimple. 

“Have I ever told you thank you?” he asks. “For all this? I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yes, you could have,” Danny argues, but Steve shakes his head. 

“No, Danno. I really couldn’t have.”

Danny gives him a long look, and finally leans up in a clear request for a kiss. Steve gives it to him gladly. 

He’s scared shitless, he’s not going to lie. He’s terrified of how much he loves Danny, and of everything he’s going to force himself to do over the coming months. It’s going to suck. He’s going to feel stupid and weak and helpless. 

But Danny will be there and that’s the only thing Steve’s sure of — that he wants Danny by his side. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is where the sex gets difficult and particularly emotionally wrought. Tensions run high because of it. Please use self-care while reading.

Danny has to admit that Steve thought this through. This awful endeavor is planned down to the most minute detail, the set-up maximized for as little downtime as possible for Steve. That also means as little downtime as possible for Danny. He is not enthusiastic.

“Alright, you ready?” Steve asks. He’s making the same face that he makes when he’s staring down the barrel of a gun, preparing to take one for the team if needed. 

It shouldn’t have to be like this, Danny thinks, but there’s no point in saying it. They both already know that. “Sure thing, babe,” he says instead. 

Steve squares his shoulders and breathes out the way Kono does when she’s about to take a shot. “So we’re going to start in safe territory — some light making out. Once we’re both a little worked up, you’ll take your shirt off. Assuming I don’t panic immediately, I might try putting my hands on you. I’m keeping mine on for now.”

Danny nods sharply. Steve having his clothes on is safe, he’s still protected. Danny will be the one who’s doing the stuff that Steve can’t yet — the stuff Steve’s brain still tells him is perverse and defective. 

“Is that okay?” Steve asks.

“Right, verbal confirmation. Yes, that’s fine with me.”

Steve nods, swallows, and leans in. It’s stilted, tense, and entirely mechanical — nothing like the times they’ve kissed where Steve wanted what they were doing. But Danny closes his eyes and pretends, doing his best to make this real in the way he wants rather than the way it is. 

And to Danny’s great surprise, it works. Steve loosens up — not a lot, but a bit, and slowly his kissing turns into something almost natural. Danny’s normally vocal as hell, eager to let his partner know how much he loves what they’re doing. Instead, he bites back his moans of appreciation. Steve  told him once, that even when the drugs hit him hardest — when he couldn't stop retching enough to sit up and see the porn they were using to recondition him — that he could always still  _ hear _ it. It's still a trigger, enough so that Danny does his best to stay quiet. Danny doesn't want to set Steve off before they get around to what they came here to do.

They kiss for a while longer, unhurried and hesitant to move on from something that they can both enjoy. But then Steve’s tugging gently at the hem of Danny’s tee, and he knows it’s time.

Like Danny’s done a thousand other times, he leans his body back without breaking the kiss, and begins to peel his shirt up. He pulls away from Steve just long enough to get his shirt over his head and then he’s back in Steve’s space. Like before, Steve’s hands rest just above Danny’s hip bones, but this time he’s touching bare skin.

Danny could scream with how good it feels to have Steve’s hands on his bare skin, and he’s glad that Steve’s eyes are closed because he’s rock hard in this flimsy pair of gym shorts, nothing hidden at all.

But the moment doesn’t last. Steve pulls back, his breath harsh and too fast, and he sits up straight, taking his hands with him. It’s not good, but so far Steve hasn’t lost all control of the situation. Danny stays still because Steve didn’t move away from him, his right knee against Danny’s left thigh, and that’s significant. He’s trying to recalibrate without  disengaging entirely . 

After a few minutes, Steve settles and then opens his eyes. He looks pained, and Danny knows that he probably is, but he smiles wryly and leans over for another kiss. Danny goes easily. Steve’s hands are back on him, his thumbs moving in slow circles against Danny’s skin, and Danny allows himself to harbor the illusion that this might just work out. 

And it does work out, right up until Steve moves his hands up Danny’s torso. He brushes one of Danny’s nipples, and Danny can’t help but gasp. The next second it’s all over and Steve’s curled around the plastic trash can that had been placed in front of the sofa.

Danny runs his hand the length of Steve’s back while he vomits, not letting him weather it alone, though the possibility exists that he’s only making it worse. Either way, it stops after a while, and Steve reaches over to the coffee table where there’s a cup of water, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a roll of toilet paper, and some extra trash bags. He cleans his face and brushes his teeth, spitting in the trash can.

“Gimme five and we can go again?” Steve asks as he flops back to the sofa, his chest still stuttering as he fights to even out his breathing. 

Danny can hear the exhaustion and resignation in his voice, but he nods because this is important and Steve wants to do it this way. “Yeah, I can do that.”

*

Steve doesn’t notice what’s happening at first. They’re just doing their regular thing, making out slowly and carefully on Steve’s couch. All the blinds are drawn, the doors locked. There’s a trash can and an extra bag sitting beside them, and mouthwash and gum standing by if needed. 

Steve’s got his hands on Danny’s chest. It’s not precisely an easy part of Danny’s body to explore — Danny’s got strong pecs, covered with a thick coat of hair, there’s no mistaking him for anything but male — but Steve’s doing alright. He’s breathing through the discomfort and actually kind of enjoying himself. 

He’s always admired strong men — the solid width of their shoulders, the strong muscles of their pecs — but never really let himself think about it as anything but wanting to look that way himself. So, yeah, it’s good, as long as he doesn’t think about it too hard. 

Only then he shifts his hips just slightly and notices the way his dick is filling. He’s not all the way there yet, but he’s definitely getting hard. 

It’s the first time that’s happened. 

He’s always so fucking panicked when he and Danny are… doing whatever they happened to be doing, that there was no way that he could get hard. But somehow, this time, he’s relaxed enough that his body has decided to react this way and it’s — 

He has a sudden urge to reach down and hold himself with a bruising grasp, forcing the reaction away as quickly as he can. This is not okay. It’s not okay for him to get fucking hard while he’s — with a  _ man.  _ It’s  _ sick,  _ he’s  _ sick,  _ he can’t fucking — 

A man can’t get him hard, he’s not like that, he’s better than that, he took his fucking medicine and he got fucking better and he worked so damn hard for so damn long, why is he doing this, undoing all of his goddamn work, letting himself get  _ sick  _ again, why is he —

He rolls off Danny, barely making the trash can before he pukes, his whole body shaking. He can’t get a full breath in. 

Those thoughts are  _ wrong _ , he tries to tell himself, just fucking lies he got told. The “work” he did to make himself pass for straight was sick, twisted shit that people fed him. That’s what he has to believe. 

He can’t quite get himself there as he tenses through another round of puking. 

“Steve?” Danny asks softly. “What happened, pal? Seemed like things were going okay.”

Steve spits and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes and nose streaming and lungs tight with the effort to breathe properly. 

“I got hard,” he grunts. “I got hard.”

He gets up and storms away from the couch, unable to face this fucked up situation, unable to face Danny  who's so tied up in all of this Steve sometimes can't see where the pain ends and Danny begins.

*

Nine weeks in, and Steve has stopped wanting it at all. Every day sucks. Every good thing that he and Danny had made seems to be affected by their efforts, spreading through their lives like a virus. 

To be fair, he knew this would happen, knew all their hard work would start, at least temporarily, to disintegrate the further they pushed, but he could do without the tacit “I told you so.” It’s not like Danny says anything. It’s more what he doesn’t say — the way he’s suddenly and inexplicably silent when Steve brings up how hard this is, the way he raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. It’s frustrating because Steve doesn’t need to be told that. Or not told that. Sometimes it feels like Danny’s judgment is all in his head, like he’s reading his own insecurities into everything Danny does. And, just a little, he feels like a kid that everyone is watching and judging. So when Danny flops down on the sofa next to Steve, his knee knocking against Steve’s, and Steve flinches, well. What else did he expect to happen?

Danny flicks on the TV like he’s pissed and mumbles something about does Steve wanna watch TV with him. And honestly, no. He doesn’t. Being touched is already exhausting but sitting there together like any of it feels good is just too much.

“Well, then you’ll have to get up because I’m not,” Danny replies to Steve’s clear, though silent, discomfort.

“It’s my sofa,” Steve bites back.

“And you’re my boyfriend, one I barely get to touch. And tomorrow I’m going to use my day off to send you into a panic attack just from doing normal people things like touching and kissing. Tonight, I would like to sit next to you and enjoy your company. Is that unreasonable?”

_ Normal people things  _ that Steve can’t even make himself want anymore. 

Danny’s upset and Steve knows it isn’t  _ him _ . It’s everything, it’s all of it, and they are trying. But it  _ feels _ like Danny’s mad at him, and it’s one more thing than he can handle right this second.

“What? You think I like this?” Steve snaps.

Danny turns, his knee pressing harder against Steve’s, and stares. “No, I don’t think you like this. There is no way to mistake that you very much do not like what happened and what is happening. However, I, too, am affected by what your piece of shit mother did to you. I try not to make you carry the weight of that on top of everything else, but do not forget that she hurt me with this, too. I am trying, Steve, I am trying so hard not to make this about me, but give me some fucking leeway here.”

Before, when the anger was just anger, it was easier to bear than it is now, when at least some of it is directed at him. Steve swallows and looks down at his lap, carefully keeping where they touch out of his line of sight. He’s been tortured, he’s been trained to withstand a helluva lot of discomfort. He can handle this. For Danny. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just tired and a little jumpy,” Steve says.

The TV clicks off and the remote clatters as it hits the coffee table. “I don’t want your apology. I just — I’m tired, too, okay? And maybe I wasn’t as prepared to handle this whole thing as I thought I was. It’s fucking ugly, Steve. And I don’t blame you, but maybe — maybe we can take tomorrow off? Go somewhere nice? Maybe we can, I don’t know, surf or go on a hike or lie on a beach somewhere and just have a nice day for once where you’re not puking your guts up and crying because I kissed you. I just want us to fucking enjoy each other’s company again.”

He doesn’t have to be looking up to hear the devastation in Danny’s voice. Fuck, how did he miss how badly Danny was hurting? Steve breathes deep to quell the roll of his stomach and leans over the sofa, taking Danny in his arms even though his skin feels like it’s covered in biting ants. 

“I was so in my own head about this shit that I missed how hard this is for you. I’m sorry, Danny. I’ve got just the place; we won’t even have to see people and I promise not to get airlifted out this time.”

Danny melts into the embrace, his fingers clutching at the fabric of Steve’s shirt, and laughs. “You can’t promise that. You always manage to get us into trouble.”

Steve smiles weakly. “Alright, I can’t. But I’ll try.”

“I guess that’s the best I’ll ever get out of you.”

Steve ignores the way his shirt feels damp where Danny’s face presses against his shoulder, the way Danny’s breath isn’t quite so even. He tries not to let the unintentional double-meaning of Danny’s words eat at him — because yeah, trying probably is the best Danny will ever get. With everyday that passes, Steve gets less and less optimistic that he’ll ever have proper intimacy with Danny. 

“Yeah, probably,” Steve answers, and he’s pleased that at least his voice sounds steady even if it doesn’t feel that way. Some part of him can’t help but wonder when Danny will give up on them, when he’ll go a find someone who can give him some kind of normal. 

*

“Let’s take a step back,” Danny says, a few days later. 

Their trip to the beach went alright, and Steve honestly was feeling better about things. He thought Danny was, too, but this sounds like the exact opposite of that. To make matters worse, they’re sitting at the edge of the bed — a new location that makes Steve nervous as fucking anything — and Danny’s got one hand around his. “The point of this isn’t to make each other miserable. The point’s to do something we wanna do, right? And if we were both happy without, it wouldn’t fucking matter, but —” 

Danny cuts himself off. He doesn’t have to say that they’re both fucking miserable. 

Steve closes his eyes. He lets himself think  _ what if Danny were a girl?  _ He doesn’t usually let himself think that way, cause it’s not fucking helpful. But right now, the question is important. Because if Danny was a girl, they’d be fucking like bunnies. Steve cares more about Danny than anyone he has ever been with. 

He wants him. 

The thought’s terrifying, but fuck it. Too fucking bad. Steve doesn’t want to be scared and he wants Danny to know that Steve wants him. 

“Let’s try something different,” Steve says. “Not sure it’s helping, me touching you. Maybe you should touch me.”

“God, babe,” Danny breathes. “I’d love that, if that’s what you want. If that will make you happy, too.”

Steve nods, jaw working. This may not be the most brilliant idea he’s ever had, but  _ something  _ has to give. And yeah, maybe he’s fudging the truth a little but he  _ wants  _ to want this, he  _ wants  _ this to make him happy. Maybe, if he can just want it hard enough...

Danny slides back on the bed, turning to prop himself up on the pillows. “C’mere,” he says, patting the space beside him. But not thinking about, Steve swings his leg over Danny and plops himself down on Danny’s thighs. A twinge of nausea starts to burn in his gut. 

Danny takes a minute to adjust to Steve’s weight, but thankfully he doesn’t question Steve, just goes with it, and leans up to kiss him. It’s surprisingly okay, despite the flex of his thighs and the slight touch of Danny’s — still soft — dick against his leg. 

“Gonna touch you now,” Danny mumbles into the kiss, and his hands land on Steve’s hips. They’re warm and strong and very, very different from any woman’s hands that have ever been on Steve. 

Steve turns his head and gags. Danny doesn’t move and after a second, Steve’s able to turn back into it. 

After a few more minutes of kissing, Danny pulls back, saying, “Tell me what you like, babe. Tell me how you like to be touched.”

Steve freezes. He can’t say that he likes to be touched, he  _ can’t _ . There’s no fucking way he can ask for the things he wants, the things he doesn’t even dare  _ think  _ about, let alone speak aloud. 

“What will feel good?” Danny says, voice a little gentler. “What would you tell another partner?”

Sitting back and breathing deeply through his nose, Steve tries to think. There are places on his body that no one has ever touched, not even Catherine, places the doctors told him were for female pleasure only — his pecs, his nipples, his ass. They won’t go there yet, but Steve dares to think,  _ one day.  _

“My shoulders,” he finally says, voice shaking. “Can you kiss—” 

Danny’s already closing in, pressing soft kisses to the outer edges of his tattoo, peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeves, then works his way up over the cloth to kiss Steve’s shoulders, as requested. 

Steve’s breath shudders in his chest. God, it’s been forever since someone touched him like this. Slowly, Danny traces the muscles of Steve’s arms with his hands, keeping his kisses contained to Steve’s shoulders, as requested. 

Letting his hands drift to Danny’s chest, Steve takes a deep breath. Through the thin fabric of Danny’s t-shirt, he can feel the flex and pull of Danny’s muscles. A sharp surge of nausea rises in his gut and he has to pull back, breathing sharply. 

“We’re safe, babe,” Danny says, in his gentlest tone. “We love each other and it’s the most normal thing in the world to show each other that this way.” 

“Right,” Steve says roughly, trying to convince himself more than anything. Determined, he puts his hands back on Danny. “Right,” he repeats, trying to let Danny’s surety quell his nausea. 

And for a couple minutes, it actually seems to work. They fall back into kissing, Danny occasionally drifting to Steve’s shoulders, hands tracing his arms or resting on his hips — all of the known, familiar, safe locations. 

“Can we take your shirt off?” Danny asks, mumbling into his mouth as they kiss. 

Stilling, Steve considers. Nudity itself isn’t a problem, it’s just the implications — but maybe him being shirtless will be easier than Danny being shirtless? It’s just one more way Steve really can’t ignore that Danny is very fucking male. 

This might be okay. Without thinking about it any further, Steve sits up a little and starts tugging off his shirt. He feels Danny helping, but he’s not letting his hands brush Steve’s skin without permission. 

Danny’s so careful with him. Sometimes, it’s infuriating. Other times, it makes Steve’s throat feel tight in a way that has nothing to do with panic.

Steve can feel Danny’s eyes roving over the exposed skin and it lights heat in his belly, because that sort of naked admiration and attraction has nothing to do with the fact that Danny is male. Steve’s stomach flip flops as Danny asks, his voice rough and low, “Where can I touch?”

He wants to say fuck it and tell Danny that he can touch him anywhere, but he reminds himself that they need to go slow. There’s a fuck of a lot riding on this. 

“Not my chest,” Steve mumbles. “And not — not too low on my stomach. But anywhere else.”

Danny dives in with enthusiasm, touching and caressing and kissing everywhere that Steve has given him permission to. He checks in regularly. There are dizzying moments where Steve looks down and all he can see is Danny’s sharp jawline, covered with stubble, the broad expanse of his shoulders, the flex of the muscles under his shirt and he has to stop and fight back nausea. And Danny will rest his forehead on Steve’s shoulder and breathe slowly and evenly and slowly it will pass and,  _ fuck.  _

Steve just missed being touched like this, being wanted like this. And that it’s Danny, for all of the terrifying struggles that brings, makes it somehow sweeter. 

Steve feels himself start to get hard as Danny scrapes his teeth over the line of his abs. It’s far from the first time it’s happened while they’ve been fooling around, but this feels a little different. When he’s touching Danny and it happens there’s always a bit of a nervous edge that comes with it. But there’s nothing wrong with feeling good when Danny is — 

“Fuck,” he hisses as Danny bites lightly at his adam’s apple. 

“All good, babe?” Danny asks and Steve can feel his lips moving on his skin. 

Steve nods shakily, “Yeah. We’re good.”

“Good,” Danny says. “I’m gonna try something. You ready?”

Steve knows that Danny’s giving him the space to ask what he’s planning. They’ve figured out, though, that sometimes knowing just makes Steve’s anxiety worse, because then he’s already thinking about it and negative thoughts are already starting to form. 

“Yes,” Steve says, instead of asking for Danny’s plan. And Danny wiggles down, swinging one leg to the side and then holy fuck Danny’s muscular thigh is pressed up against Steve’s dick and it feels too fucking good and it’s terrifying and it’s not allowed and he shouldn’t be letting a man make him feel this way, he’s so goddamn sick, and he never wants Danny to stop — 

And then he’s pushing away and rolling to the side of the bed, barely making the trash can there before he starts to puke, deep gasping breaths scraping at his chest and all of his skin itching like it doesn’t fucking fit and his eyes are watering and all he can hear is his mom saying, “He’s sick. I expect you to fix him,” but they hadn’t, had they? He still wants this, despite everything. Despite the pain and the puking and the nightmares and everything he still fucking wants it. 

“You’re alright,” Danny’s saying softly, coming to sit beside him, carefully not touching. “You’re safe, we’re both safe. You just gotta get rid of that shit in your head.”

And slowly, slowly, Steve comes out of it. 

Once the gasping and sobs have died down, Danny speaks up. His voice is light and happy, the way it never is after one of these sessions. “God, babe. That was  _ great. _ ”

Steve looks over him, stomach cramping and face still wet with tears, wondering what the fuck he’s talking about. As far as Steve’s concerned, that went FUBAR just like normal. But Danny is smiling, his eyes bright. 

“We’ve never gotten that far,” Danny enthuses. “And you were feeling good, I could tell. And I was feeling good. That was  _ fun.  _ And fuck, babe. You know all I want is for us to have fun.”

“I still puked,” Steve points out, voice raspy. He reaches for the mouthwash they keep on the bedside table. 

“Yeah, but that’s kind of a foregone conclusion right now, babe. But we’ll get there, okay? And this was a huge fucking step in the right direction.” Danny’s enthusiasm and confidence is a balm to all of Steve’s many many doubts. He wants Danny to be happy. 

He thinks he might even want to be happy himself. 

After swishing and spitting, he carefully leans his weight into Danny’s side. Danny’s arm comes around him. For the first time, Steve lets his head come down on Danny’s shoulder. He closes his eyes. 

“Love you, babe,” Danny murmurs, pressing a kiss into his hair. 

Steve sighs happily.

*

Danny whistles as they finally make their way through the trees to the property. Glancing over, he sees Steve’s eyes go wide. 

“How’d you say Kamekona got this place for the weekend again?” Steve asks. 

“I didn’t ask,” Danny admits as Steve pulls the jeep to a stop in front of the bungalow. The place itself is nice enough, but it’s the private beach surrounded by outcroppings of rock that’s really so stunning. Outside of the villas of millionaires, finding any truly private beach in Hawaii is no easy task, but Kamekona had really come through. 

They clamber out of the car together, gathering their bags from the back seat. Steve’s fidgeting in that particular way that means  _ I need in the water fucking now _ , so Danny reaches out and takes his backpack. 

“Go on,” he says, voice fond. “Go try out the water.” 

Steve shoots him a blinding grin and jogs down to the ocean, already doffing his shirt. Danny takes a minute to admire him — the wide expanse of his shoulders, his well muscled back. God, Danny’s looking forward to seeing  _ more.  _

Danny shakes his head and makes himself look away — plenty of time for that this weekend — and goes looking for the key Kamekona had given him. He heads up to the front door and lets himself in. The house is pretty tiny, with a compact kitchen and barely enough room in the living room for a couch, but the whole front of the house is windows. Danny spends long minutes staring out at the ocean. He can’t quite see Steve from here, because of the rocky outcroppings, but that’s good. The whole point is privacy. 

The bed’s up on a loft, so Danny dumps their bags on the couch and goes to make sure the fridge is stocked as promised. Once he’s sure everything is as it should be, he changes into his swim trunks — unlike Steve, he hadn’t wanted to wear them for the whole multi-hour trip. He keeps on a white t-shirt, because there’s no reason to rush, slathers himself in sunscreen and heads down to the water. 

Steve’s doing laps, but when he spots Danny he turns in and heads for shore with strong, confident strokes. Danny tries not to feel nervous about the wide expanse of ocean behind him — he knows Steve is a strong swimmer who can handle himself. 

Steve emerges from the water like some sort of fucking Greek god, Danny swears. No man has the right to look that good. To top it off, he’s wearing that goofy smile that makes him Danny’s Steve, neurotic and loving and good, despite all the shit he’s lived through. 

And so fucking brave, Danny adds, as Steve comes up and presses a hasty kiss to Danny’s lips before pulling away. 

“Hey, babe,” Danny says, what’s probably a pretty dopey smile on his face. “How’s the water?”

“Perfect,” Steve sighs happily. “How’s the place look?”

“Good, everything was just like Kamekona said. Fridge is all stocked.”

“Great. Are you gonna come in?” Steve gestures to Danny’s shorts. Danny sighs and gives the water a nervous look, but getting in the water is kind of the whole point. 

“Yeah, I suppose I am.”

Steve shifts his weight, bites his lip. “Should we — um.”

Reaching out, Danny puts a soothing hand on Steve’s neck. It takes Steve only a couple seconds to relax into it, which lets Danny know all he needs to know. Steve’s comfortable, happy. He feels at ease here. 

Danny could not be more grateful. 

“If you’re ready, but there’s no rush. We’ve got all weekend.”

“I think I want to,” Steve says, sounding freaked out by the admission.

“Yeah, me too,” Danny says with a grin. “But I’m gonna need you to sunscreen my back.” 

Steve’s smile turns mischievous and Danny reaches out and slugs him in the  shoulder, “Don’t even start.” 

Danny drops the towels he’s brought out into the sand, fishing the tube of sunscreen out of the jumble. He holds it out to Steve. As soon as Steve takes it, Danny tugs his shirt off, keeping his demeanor as casual as possible. 

When he looks up, he’s surprised to find that Steve’s eyes are on him — specifically, his chest. While he and Steve have progressed to shirtless making out, that’s mostly in the dim light of their bedrooms, not out in the bright Hawaiian sunlight. And even in the safety of gloom, Danny rarely catches Steve looking at his chest. 

Steve doesn’t even look that freaked out and a flutter of excitement hits Danny’s stomach. They really are making progress. 

But Danny knows better than to draw attention to it. He just turns around, letting Steve have access to his back. A couple months back, even this wouldn’t have been on the table. It’s kind of thrilling that this sort of causal touch is just normal now. 

Danny relishes the sure, steady touch of Steve’s hands on his back. He waits until Steve takes his hands away with a quick, “All set,” before he starts to wriggle out of his shorts. He hears Steve take a quick breath and back up a couple steps, but Danny knows that giving Steve too much warning doesn’t help anyone. 

Plus, better to start with a view of Danny’s pasty white ass, that’s likely to take the intimidation factor right off the table and give Steve plenty to tease him about instead. 

Once he’s kicked off his shorts, Danny glances over his shoulder, not yet turning around. Steve has gone very still and he’s biting his lip. 

“Okay, babe?” Danny asks softly. Steve flinches minutely. “I can put them back on.”

“No,” Steve says, voice gone rough and tight. “I want to do this. It’s just —.”

“You’ve seen naked guys before,” Danny points out. 

Steve gives him a little glare. “That’s not the same.”

Danny nods, conceding the point. “But it doesn’t need to be any different right now. We’re just gonna go for a swim and hopefully not have our dicks nibbled on by fish.”

Steve’s surprised into rolling his eyes. “That’s not a thing.”

“We’ll see,” Danny says skeptically and Steve grins, shaking his head.  _ Success,  _ Danny thinks. “Alright if I turn around now?”

Steve licks his lips nervously but murmurs his consent. He turns his eyes away and starts to strip his shorts off — harder because they’re wet and clinging to him. God, Danny can’t wait to see this man naked. Turning around, Danny keeps his eyes on Steve, even if Steve won’t look at him. 

Danny feels a little weird, standing totally nude on the beach, but the choice of location isn’t for his comfort — it’s for Steve’s. And when they’d talked about taking the next step in their relationship, Steve had sort of jokingly said he wished they could go skinny dipping. So Danny had made it happen, because really, if that was what Steve needed to feel comfortable, Danny was happy to provide. 

Letting his eyes drift over Steve’s body, Danny smiles. Fuck, but Steve is gorgeous — from the familiar planes of his chest and vee of his hips to the powerful lines of his thighs. His cock rests softly against his body and god, Danny wants to touch. His hands burn and his mouth waters with how much he wants to touch, but that’s not the point here and literally nothing is going to be helped if Danny gets hard. 

Steve is looking too. He looks tense — mouth a long line and eyes tight — but he’s carefully drawing his gaze over Danny’s chest and down between his legs. Danny tries not to shift, though it’s difficult to stand there and just let Steve  _ look.  _

It’s not that they haven’t seen each other before, between injuries and sharing space on the regular. But this is different, and they both feel it. 

“Let’s get in the water, huh?” Danny suggests, seeing the tension grow in Steve’s shoulders. They release as soon as Danny speaks, so Danny resolutely gets over his own anxiety and heads down towards the waves. 

Steve runs right in, showing off his sculpted back and the taut muscles off his ass, and then turns around with a teasing grin. “C’mon Danno, nothin’ to be afraid of.”

“There’s plenty to be afraid of,” Danny gripes, though he starts to wade in. He moves quickly so he can cover up, knowing that’s half the point of this set up. Of course, it’s Hawaii and the water is clear and sparkling, so it doesn’t hide as much as if they’d been back in Jersey. On the other hand, there’s no amount of money anyone could pay Danny to expose his cock and balls directly to the frigid water of the Atlantic. “Sharks, for one. The sheer amount of sewage in ocean water, for another.”

“C’mon, Danno, just enjoy it for once in your goddamn life,” Steve says playfully. His eyes are sparkling. His body language is easy and open. 

This was possibly the best idea they’d ever had. 

Danny splashes Steve. Steve laughs and splashes back.

It devolves from there. 

Water goes flying and they’re chasing each other like kids and then suddenly Steve’s got his arms around Danny and is ducking him under the water. Danny comes up spluttering for more than one reason, because he’s honestly shocked that Steve touched him. 

By the sudden stillness in Steve’s body, he is too. 

Before things can get weird, Danny turns and propels his body into Steve’s, taking the man off guard and dropping him into the water. He knows he only got the drop on him because of Steve’s shock, but a man’s gotta take what he can get. 

*

That night, when they climb into bed, exhausted and happy, neither of them wear a shirt. 

That’s not such a big deal, really. They’ve slept shirtless together before. Sometimes. When Steve says he’s okay with it. 

But Steve also leaves his pajamas off, slipping under the covers in just his boxers. His body is a little stiff, but Danny pointedly ignores it. He leaves his own pajama pants on, but he relishes Steve’s increased comfort and once again is filled with gratitude for this idea, for Kamekona for finding them a perfect place, for  _ Steve  _ and all his incredibly hard work. 

That gratitude increases tenfold as Steve slowly scooches up behind him and wraps an arm around him. Steve’s still tense and he keeps their lower halves carefully removed, but this is the stuff of fucking dreams right here, just having Steve close like this. 

Danny sighs happily. “Love that, babe,” he tells him. 

There’s a quiet moment and then Steve presses a kiss to his shoulder. 

_ This is the life,  _ Danny thinks, not even a little sarcastic. He thinks that if this is all they get, he could be happy. He really could. 

*

Steve wakes warm and content to the feeling of sun on his face and the awareness of another body pressed close to his. It takes about five seconds for him to realize that it’s Danny and that Steve’s body is reacting to his proximity in what is probably a normal way but also makes Steve’s whole body go still. 

Because his dick is pressed right up against Danny’s ass and that’s — 

That’s — that’s not allowed to feel good. That’s not allowed to make him hard. 

Danny lets out a happy sighing sound and Steve can see his eyes start to flutter open. He rocks back into Steve’s erection, pressing his ass close, and fuck, that shouldn’t feel so good, Steve can’t fucking want this, he — 

But it’s Danny and he wants to want it and clearly Danny wants it too. And they hadn’t talked about  _ this  _ specifically, about whether Danny will ever want Steve to fuck him but Danny had said it was fine, that whatever they could do was fine, but if Danny’s pushing his ass against Steve’s dick before he’s even awake then surely he wants it and —

Steve can’t make his brain fucking stop. He’s starting to feel sick. 

“Shit,” Danny says, rolling away. “Shit, Steve. I’m sorry.”

Steve sits up, pulling away. He fixes his gaze down, eyes accidentally landing on his dick tenting the covers. He quickly looks away. His erection is quickly flagging, but he can’t ignore the evidence that he’d enjoyed being pressed up against Danny like that. And now that Danny’s sitting up, his arousal is clear too. 

But Steve can’t give him this. Steve doesn’t know if he’ll ever even be able to touch Danny’s dick. With each passing month it feels more and more unlikely. And clearly Danny wants it. What if Steve can never give him what he needs? Fuck “what if,” Steve  _ knows _ the answer to that question. He  _ can’t _ do that for Danny. This was all a mistake. 

“I knew you weren’t okay with this,” Steve says roughly. 

“What?” Danny says, sounding confused. 

Steve gestures sharply between their bodies. “ _ This _ . Us. Not fucking. Not touching. You keep saying it’s fine, but clearly it’s fucking not.” Steve waves his hand in the direction of Danny’s tented pajama pants. 

“That’s not fucking fair,” Danny spits back, sitting up straighter. “Of course I want more, Steve. But just because I want more doesn’t mean I need it. Just because I’d fucking love it if you gave me a hand job doesn’t mean I can’t be okay with things staying the same.”

“You keep saying it’s fine,” Steve argues. “But then you’re grinding up on me like that —” 

“Because it feels good! I can want these things and still be okay if I don’t get them!”

Steve throws the covers aside and gets up, restless energy building under his skin. He needs to  _ move.  _ He needs to run and never fucking stop. Danny fucks him up. Why did Steve ever think he could fucking do this? He should just go back to fucking women. Then at least he could pretend he was semi-fucking-normal.

“I don’t even know why we’re bothering.”

Hurt flashes across Danny’s face and Steve hates that there’s a sort of vindictive pleasure at that. But everything fucking hurts all the fucking time. Even his fucking teeth hurt because of all the goddamn vomiting and his dentist fucking hates him and —

That’s not the fucking point. Fucking hell, he can’t manage to have a goddamn argument the right way. 

“I thought it was because we love each other, Steven. I thought that’s why we’ve done all this fucking work over the last year. Because we love each other.”

_ Love. _ Steve’s heard that before. Just like Cath loved him up until he wasn’t “emotionally available.” Just like Mom and Dad loved him until they tortured him. Just like Freddie loved him until Steve got him killed. Love has never been enough, and Steve knows it won’t be now.

“What we have now is enough for you  _ now _ , Danny. In a year, two years? You’ll need more. You’ll need a normal relationship and I am never going to be able to provide you with that. You’re fooling yourself if you think this is going to work.”

Steve goes to stand and Danny grabs his wrist. Maybe some other time Steve might have gagged, or at least panicked, because it’s  _ a man  _ trying to keep him from getting out of bed, a bed where they both have erections, but he’s  _ so _ angry — at Danny for convincing him to tear himself apart for something that can’t work, at his parents, at that fucking therapist, at himself for believing that things could ever change, at the lie that he could ever really be happy — he twists his wrist and pulls at the seam of Danny’s fingers and he’s free. 

He grabs a pair of socks as he passes his duffle and pulls them on in ungraceful hopping motions. Danny’s coming, Steve can hear his footsteps, but he jams his feet into his running shoes and makes for the door. 

“Please, Steve, please. Don’t run from this. If you start running — ”

Steve rounds on Danny. “I’ve been running my entire life! Why are you so special that I should stop now? Huh, Danny? Tell me, why should I go through this hell  _ for you _ when I don’t even fucking want it? What, so you can maybe get off one day? Because I have to tell you, that doesn’t really matter to me.”

“You said you wanted it! You asked me for this! Why the fuck would I go through all this with you if you didn’t want it?” Danny screams.

A part of Steve cringes internally. He did ask Danny. Danny never once pushed and Steve knows it. And from the anger in Danny’s voice, Steve knows he’s hurt and he hates it because Danny’s the only person that doesn’t hurt him, that has  _ never  _ hurt him. 

But he can’t. He can’t stop, he can’t stand there in front of Danny and wait for the inevitable because he’s never been good enough, not at anything like love, and Steve isn’t going to wait around to be reminded of all the ways he’ll never measure up.

“Whatever, Danny.”

“Steve — ”

Whatever else Danny was going to say is lost when Steve slams the door shut behind him hard enough that the windows shake in their frames. By the time Steve makes it down the drive to the main road, the creeping pain in his chest and shoulders is starting to fade. It’s not perfect, but as long as he’s running, Steve can imagine that there’s nothing he has to go back to, no one to hurt him, no one to try to fix him. He pretends he’s normal and lets the illusion last as far as his feet will carry him.

*

It’s half past nine, the sun having set over an hour ago, and Danny’s starting to contemplate calling Chin. Steve ran out without his phone or his gun, and for as much of an asshole he was being earlier, the last thing Danny wants is to see Steve hurt. Maybe Danny’s already done enough of that. Fuck.

Michael had said it would be ugly, that it might not work in the end either. Danny knew it, and in theory he had prepared for it, but the reality is definitely not something Danny is handling well. 

The alarm system beeps — a door was opened — and Danny has his gun in hand as he slips through the kitchen to get a sight on the front door. 

“Fuck, Steve. God, I was worried.”

Steve doesn’t so much as look at Danny. He’s sunburnt, though not too badly, and Danny can tell at a glance that Steve hasn’t had anything to drink all day. He turns down the hall and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door. 

Danny flops onto the sofa and drops his gun on the end table. He wants to scream and cry and punch Steve in his stupid fucking face. But Steve will only be in the shower for three minutes, tops. Danny knows they’re not going to talk tonight, maybe not the rest of the weekend, so this is his chance at a peace offering. 

He gets up and goes to rummage in the kitchen. The best he can prepare on short notice is cold cuts, so he slaps together a few sandwiches and mixes up some powdered gatorade, since Steve is clearly hell-bent on dying from over-exertion. He’s almost done when Steve pads out to the kitchen, still dripping from the shower. 

“Thanks,” Steve mutters, still avoiding Danny’s eyes.

“Sure,” Danny says quietly. “Hey, um, look I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed, alright?”

Steve nods.

“Yeah,” Danny says, mostly to himself.

The bed is stupidly large and Danny really,  _ really _ wishes that Steve would just come in and lie down with him. This whole thing fucking sucks and he gets it, the insecurity, the anger, even the misdirected blame. But when he hears the creaky spring-loaded legs of the fold-out sofa, Danny knows that Steve isn’t coming. 

It feels like failure even though Danny knows it isn’t. The sting of rejection and the hurt of Steve’s anger keeps Danny awake into the early hours of the morning.

*

When they get up in the morning, any hope Danny had for sleep being the magical cure for their ills evaporates completely. Steve is gone — probably swimming away his woes somewhere out in the surf. Danny uses the downtime to pack and then, because Steve still isn’t back, he makes a full spread for breakfast.

Steve’s gone long enough that Danny can tell he’s trying to purge whatever’s rolling around in his head. By the time he gets back, the food is cold. Danny thinks he might hear a murmured “thanks” before Steve mechanically shovels the food into his mouth. 

It doesn’t take a degree in head-shrinking for Danny to put two and two together — Steve is clearly and obviously still angry. Danny can understand — this whole thing is a giant fucking disaster from the word “go.” What he can’t understand is how Steve goes no lengths whatsoever to hide his displeasure from Danny. 

As they load the jeep in silence and Steve cranks the engine — all without looking Danny in the eye once since the morning before — Danny has to wonder if they’re going to survive this. The anxiety of it all makes his heart knock against his ribs, makes his skin crawl, and his stomach lurch. He wants this to work. He wants this more that he ever wanted to fix his marriage with Rachel. 

He wants to  _ ask. _

But he also knows Steve can’t answer. So he waits, knowing that the only way out is through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far! We really appreciate it.


	4. Chapter 4

An unexpected knock startles Danny out of his catatonia where he’s sprawled in front of the TV. 

It has been the week from hell. They caught a case almost as soon as they’d gotten back to the city and it had been an awful one, with fucking  _ kids.  _ Danny can’t handle that shit on a  _ good  _ day. 

But on top of that, Steve was distant and prickly all week, not allowing any of their regular contact and avoiding Danny completely outside of work hours. Danny’s bone-tired and emotionally exhausted, and he’s not above admitting that he misses the fucking asshole. 

With a sigh, Danny heaves himself up and plods over to the door. He glances through the window and is surprised to find that Steve’s standing on his doorstep, hands shoved into his pockets and head hanging low. 

Well, this is a nice fucking change.

Danny opens the door. 

“Hey,” he greets softly. 

“Hey,” Steve replies. “Can I come in?”

Danny steps aside, gesturing him in. “Want a beer or anything?” he offers, but isn’t shocked when Steve shakes his head. 

“Listen, Danny,” Steve says, launching right in, like he’s want to do. “I’m sorry, okay? For how I acted. On our trip. This week.”

Licking his lips, Danny considers how to reply. He gets that this whole situation sucks for Steve, as much as he possibly can, given having never lived it himself. It doesn’t make it okay for Steve to treat him like this. 

“It’s okay for you to get pissed off, Steve. Or have doubts, or what the fuck ever,” Danny says, gesticulating sharply. “But you don’t get to act like I haven’t been with you every fucking step of the way. I know I’m not doing the work you’re doing, but fuck Steve. I’ve got skin in this, too.”

“I know.” Steve won’t quite meet his eyes. “This is just — really fuckin’ hard. And I — .” Steve stops, clamping down on the words. But Steve said enough, in that argument. Danny knows, now, that Steve doesn’t really believe Danny when he say he’s okay with how things are. He doesn’t really get why Danny’s willing to stick with it. 

That’s okay, though. Danny’s a stubborn bastard. He’ll keep proving he’s in for the long haul one goddamn day at a time. 

“Yeah,” Danny says softly. And then he shifts, gesturing at the couch. “Come sit down, I bet there’s a game on. I’ll grab you some water.”

“Can I get that beer now?” Steve asks, collapsing onto the couch. His body relaxes, his legs go wide, taking up space. Danny rolls his eyes fondly. 

“Sure thing, babe.”

*

It takes them a couple weeks to settle back in. Steve stays bristly and jumpy, and anytime he has to call a stop to kissing or cuddling or whatever he gives Danny this  _ look _ , like he’s testing him or something. Danny kind of hates it, but he doesn’t call Steve out on it. Steve’s working through some shit the best he knows how and Danny’s just gotta let him. 

Danny spends his own time working through it too — more late night jogs when he can’t quite sleep, more calls to Michael and his ma, though the content of those calls varies greatly. He hasn’t told his parents about Steve, which is sometimes harder than all the rest, but he knows that being out to any sort of parental units is going to be a huge fucking deal for Steve and they are not quite there yet. Hell, they’re not even out to the team yet and that’s an obvious first step. But it’s hard keeping it to himself. It’s really fucking hard not to be open with Grace, ‘cause Danny always said he would be, whenever possible. 

That’s a conversation he’ll have to raise soon, he knows. Because the lack of sex, the unpredictable variability in how much he’s allowed to touch Steve, the nightmares and panic attacks — all of that Danny can deal with. Hiding from his family? Not so much. 

Danny shakes his head, clearing the thoughts and glances over at Steve, whose jaw is working like he’s literally chewing on words. Rolling his eyes, Danny reaches out and pokes him in the shoulder. “Out with it, babe.”

Steve shifts on the couch, but turns to look Danny straight on. “Next week’s your birthday.”

“Very observant,” Danny says dryly. 

Steve narrows his eyes at him momentarily, but then licks his lips nervously, which makes Danny sit up a little straighter. That’s Steve’s  _ let’s do something that might make me puke face _ . Danny is very familiar at this point. 

“I was thinking maybe we could — we could try.” Steve bites down on the words and then grits his teeth and says, “I want to give you a hand job.”

A rush of heat suffuses Danny because  _ fuck yeah,  _ but it only takes a second for his higher brain functions to kick in. “As awesome as that sounds — and it does sound fucking awesome, don’t get me wrong — I think that might be a little ambitious, babe.”

Steve’s jaw sets and his eyes go stubborn. “I  _ want  _ to,” he says. And well, he actually does sound like he wants to, but there’s no ignoring the nervous edge to his words. 

“I believe you,” Danny replies, trying not to sound too soothing because that will only infuriate Steve. “But maybe we could start with something else. Maybe a little grinding. Maybe a little clothed dick touching before we go for a hand job.”

Steve crosses his arm and grouses, “I guess.”

“I’d rather that, babe, than try something that’s gonna be too much. And honestly, anything that involves you and my dick is going to be fucking amazing.”

Steve shrugs, but his body relaxes a little and he gives Danny this look that Danny’s starting to think is Steve’s version of flirty, just this quick downward glance at Danny’s body and a quick purse of his lips. Danny scooches over and leans into Steve’s side. Steve’s arm comes around him, easy and sure. Danny grins and leans up for a kiss, which Steve gives him after a deep breath. 

“Gonna be a great birthday present,” Danny mumbles into the kiss. He feels Steve smile. 

*

Of course, in the week leading up to it, doubts start to sneak in. He starts to worry that Steve’s doing this because he thinks Danny isn’t happy with how things are now. That one, he feels an immediate need to check about, because  _ hell no.  _

When he brings it up in the car, Steve immediately assures him that it’s not because of that, but there’s enough anxious shifting involved that Danny’s not completely convinced. 

Steve must read Danny’s doubt, because he quietly adds, “Look, I still worry about it. Of course, I do. But that’s not why, okay? I want to do something nice for you and — I want to. I miss coming with another person and I want to do it with you.” 

Danny’s mouth goes a little dry. “Okay,” he agrees and that’s that.

The day before his birthday, Danny starts thinking maybe they should have done some dry runs before the big event. They’ve done a little bit of grinding in the past month, but never with the intent of getting either of them off. There’s been some over-pants touching of thighs, but anywhere else below the belt line has been strictly off limits. They can’t really expect this much new to go well, can they?

But Steve’s so goddamn determined about it, Danny honestly doesn’t have the heart to voice those worries. If it goes badly, it goes badly. They can deal with that. 

*

Danny shows up at Steve’s place just as Steve is getting out of the shower. He dries and dresses quickly, not bothering with anything too fancy. The hope is that at least some of it is going to come off, and the rest needs to be comfortable. 

Besides that, Steve hasn’t done much to get ready. One of Danny’s favorite chocolate cakes from that one bakery is waiting in the fridge, but Danny’s bringing take out for them to eat  _ after _ , if Steve’s feeling up to it. They don’t tend to give each other gifts, though Danny had gotten Steve a really nice knife for his last birthday, so Steve had gone ahead and gotten Danny a new wallet, which sits nicely wrapped on the table. 

Danny lets himself in with a shouted hello, though it only takes him a second to get to Steve anyway. Steve greets him with a deep kiss, which he’s wanted to give him all fucking day. 

Humming happily, Danny mumbles into his lips, “Hello to you too, babe.”

“Happy Birthday, Danno,” Steve says, wrapping his arms around Danny and pulling him close. None of this ever feels easy and Steve’s never quite sure if it ever will, but he’s able to push through the residual anxiety easily now. Most days, at least. 

“Thanks,” Danny says, pulling back and smiling broadly, making Steve’s chest go a little tight. He’s so fucking grateful for Danny, some days. For all the ways dating women was infinitely easier, this part never had been. Even with Catherine, there had always been moments where Steve felt like a huge fucking fraud. But Danny knows him, every ugly, messy, broken part and it’s still so easy to be with him. 

They find themselves in a quiet, still moment, and Steve’s nerves start to come back full force as he considers what’s next for the evening. Danny reaches out and grabs his hand where it’s fidgeting with the edge of his t-shirt, intertwines their fingers. “Bedroom?” he suggest softly and Steve nods. 

Already the week of waiting had led to issues — a couple nightmares. A couple not-nightmares that left Steve gasping and close to puking. But with Danny right there, and that look in his eyes, it’s easier to remember that Steve  _ wants  _ this. He wants to be close to Danny, he really, really does. 

Danny leads him upstairs by the hand and into the bedroom, pushing him down on to the bed. Steve sits while Danny gets ready — closing and locking the bedroom door, drawing the curtains, making sure the trash can’s by the bed (Steve gets a  _ look  _ when Danny sees that it is — Danny knows that means there’s been bad nights), checking that the mouthwash, toothbrush, and toothpaste are on the bedside table, that there are washcloths and spare trash bags if need be. Danny’s old hand at this, now. This is how they always prepare. And somehow, seeing Danny doing all these things is starting to get Steve hot. His body has learned what comes next and it doesn’t always suck, now. 

God, he’s a little fucked in the head. 

“Where d’you want me?” Danny asks, coming over to Steve after pointedly checking the door one more time. Steve puts his hands on Danny’s hips and thinks about it for a minute. 

“Lying down. On your back.” 

Danny grins and sweeps down for a quick kiss before clambering into bed, sprawling out with his hands pillowed beneath his head. He’s still dressed in his button down and jeans, but it’s always easier to start clothed. 

Steve scooches over and sits next to him, not ready to press their bodies together yet, and leans over to start kissing him. This part is good, familiar, growing easier all the time. Kissing turns into petting, Steve letting his hands run over all the familiar parts of Danny and then starting to unbutton his shirt. 

“Your shirt too, babe?” Danny requests as he sits up to tug his shirt all the way off and quickly strip his undershirt. Steve obliges, tugging off his t-shirt, and then settling down on his side beside Danny. Danny turns on his side to match him. “Can I touch now?”

Steve nods, leaning in for another kiss and Danny’s hand lands on his hip, sweeps over his stomach, circles his belly button. Steve pulls in quick breath, kisses a little harder then lets himself turn and scrape his teeth over the line of Danny’s jaw, suck on that sensitive spot right behind his ear. 

Danny’s carefully quiet and keeps his hands in all the permitted places — sweeping up Steve’s back, gripping at his bicep. His lips kiss down Steve’s neck, press wet open, mouthed kisses to his collarbones, not dipping any lower. Steve closes his eyes and breathes Danny in, the familiar, welcome scent of him. Used to be, the scent of Danny was just one more thing that made panic surge into Steve’s body — Danny smells distinctly male — but overtime, the way he smells has become comforting.  _ Danny  _ is comforting, despite all of the painful things they have to do together. 

Steve should probably tell Danny that, sometime, but that seems like a struggle for another day. 

Instead, he crowds a little closer. He glances down Danny’s body, taking slow, measured breaths as he takes in his hairy chest, the slight swell of his abs, the growing bulge in his jeans. He tentatively presses his thigh against Danny’s erection, which has the added effect of bringing Steve’s dick into contact with Danny’s hip. Steve’s not quite hard yet — it always takes him longer to get there than Danny — but that makes it easier, somehow. 

Moving methodically and trying to keep his brain quiet and still, Steve puts a hand on Danny’s hip and encourages him to rock into Steve’s leg. Danny’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open. He doesn’t moan or gasp or anything, but he does say, “God, babe. That feels fucking great.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, lowering his lips back to Danny’s neck, searching out all the spots he knows get Danny hottest. 

“ _ Yes, _ ” Danny says emphatically. Steve smiles, hiding it against Danny’s body. Danny’s hands start moving again, he starts kissing Steve’s neck and jaw and Steve feels himself start to stir against Danny’s hip. It makes his stomach flip nervously, but he pushes that out of his mind determinedly. 

As with every time they try something new, they take their time, they move slowly. They spend a long time just kissing and grinding at a maddeningly slow pace. 

It feels absurdly good. It feels almost safe. 

Then Danny asks, “Can I touch you, babe? Over your pants.”

Steve’s mind goes blank, a panicked fuzz like radio feedback filling the corners of his brain. If Danny gets him off, it occurs to him, there’s no going back. He is definitely, undeniably  _ gay.  _

_ And what,  _ he asks himself scathingly,  _ you’re not now? You’ve been in a relationship with a man for over a year! You’re fucking gay.  _

“Yes,” he finds himself saying. His voice is tight and nervous, but Danny doesn’t ask him if he’s sure. 

Danny’s hand, warm and confident, runs over Steve’s stomach one more time, revisiting favored hot spots, before running along his hip. Slowly, Danny reaches out and runs just his thumb along Steve’s dick. Unlike Danny, Steve’s wearing a pair of loose shorts, too thin to disguise how his dick jerks at the contact. 

Steve’s stomach jumps immediately afterwards, a nasty counter to the pleasure that’s been building. He swallows compulsively. He can feel Danny watching him, waiting. Once Steve settles, Danny runs his thumb along Steve’s dick again, harder. 

It shouldn’t feel so fucking good. It’s barely any contact at all. 

But then Danny wraps his fingers around Steve’s dick, strokes softly. Steve goes perfectly still, nausea surging in his gut. He sits up quickly and moves back, breathing deeply through his nose, trying not to puke. He shouldn’t be feeling good, not like this. He shouldn’t — 

But that’s bullshit. Isn’t that what he’s been trying to teach himself for so long now? He shakes his head restlessly, lifts one hand to tug on his hair. 

“It’s okay, Steve,” Danny says softly. “We’re okay. You’re safe. This is healthy and right.”

Steve nods once, jerkily. He closes his eyes and breathes. They’re fine, they’re good. There’s no doctor waiting to up the meds, no Doris waiting in the wings to force him to more appointments, no dad waiting with a belt when the doctor said the sessions didn’t go well. 

“Can I touch you instead?” he gasps out. 

“Of course you can,” Danny says, grinning eagerly. “That’s not even a question, babe. But first —” he stops Steve as he goes to reach out. “Let me change into some sweats or something, okay? These jeans are…” Danny trails off and Steve manages a teasing grin. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny says as he rolls out of bed and pads over the dresser, fishing some of his sweats out of the bottom drawer. “I’ll be right back.”

Steve wants to say that Danny can change right there, that it’s not like Steve hasn’t seen him naked. But even if Danny keeps his boxer briefs on, Steve’s not sure he can handle a clearer view of Danny’s erection right now. 

_ Fucking weak,  _ he thinks at himself, rubbing at his brow. It’s been a year and he can’t even give Danny a proper hand job. He should be  _ over  _ this by now. 

“Stop,” comes Danny’s voice from the door. “I can hear you thinking bad things. Stop it. It’s my birthday, you’re gonna touch my dick, it’s going to be amazing so just  _ shut up  _ in there, okay?”

Steve rolls his eyes but nods, sitting up a little more. He lets himself admire Danny for a moment: all the things he never usually lets himself notice about men — the tight v of his hips, the lines of his biceps, the strength evident in his chest. His mouth goes a little dry. 

“Come here,” he mumbles. Danny obliges, coming back to the bed and sprawling out on his back, hands tucked behind his head again. Steve slides down on his side and reaches a hand out. He runs a hand over Danny’s chest, letting himself feel the hair, letting his thumb run over Danny’s nipple. 

Danny sighs and smiles, letting his eyes close. 

Without Danny looking, Steve gathers the courage to glance down Danny’s body, at the obvious tent he’s pitching in his sweats. Without letting himself think too hard on it, Steve brings his hand down and wraps his hand around Danny’s dick. 

“Steve! Jesus, babe. Give a guy some warning.” Danny gasps, eyes flying open and of fucking course, Steve immediately has to take his hand off and close his eyes, breathing deeply. His mouth waters and his stomach surges. He bites his lip against it. He’s not gonna fucking puke. He’s going to make Danny feel good because Danny deserves that, goddamnit. 

He peels his eyes open. Danny’s looking right up at him, blue eyes calm and non-judgemental. 

“You good?” he asks.

Steve nods, still swallowing against the urge to puke. “Close your eyes again,” he orders. 

Obediently, for once in his life, Danny closes his eyes. Breathing through his nose, Steve brings his hand back down. Slowly he wraps his fingers around him. It’s not that different from touching himself, Steve tries to tell himself, though even that can be touch and go sometimes. Not always, just when things are bad. 

Danny feels different, though. The weight and length of him isn’t the same as Steve. Which Steve obviously knew — it’s just different to feel it. Slowly, experimentally, he gives a stroke. Danny’s hips jerk up towards his hand. 

“Fuck, babe,” Danny swears. 

Steve’s stomach is still cramping, his breath coming a little too fast.  _ That’s a dick in your hand,  _ some voice in his head is trying to say, but it’s  _ Danny’s  _ dick and Steve wants to make him feel good. He gives another stroke, stronger and faster. And then another. 

“I am — fuck. I am not gonna last, babe. Not at — god, that feels good. Fuck, babe. I’m gonna —” And then Danny’s gone quiet, his hips jerk hard into Steve’s arm and Steve can feel a damp spot starting on Danny’s sweats. 

He lets go immediately. His brain goes a little fuzzy around the edges. 

Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _

_ What did you do,  _ a voice that sounds like his mom asks.  _ Son, you need more medicine.  _

He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the thoughts. He wanted to do this, he wanted to make Danny feel good. Steve has always loved making his girlfriends feel good, and Danny isn’t any different. 

_ Except he’s a man,  _ Doris’ voice says again. 

Steve quickly slides to the edge of the bed, tucks his head between his knees and tries to breathe. But his breath is coming too fast in his chest and he can’t fucking get a deep enough breath and his skin is prickling and his stomach seizing and —

“It’s okay,” Danny is saying. He moves close enough that Steve can feel his body heat, but not so close that they’re touching. It fucking hurts that Danny has to know exactly what to do in this situation. Steve wishes he didn’t need to know. He wishes he could be fucking  _ normal.  _ “We’re okay, Steve. You’re safe. The door is locked. No one knows what we’re doing, here. This is just for me and you. It’s normal. It’s healthy.”

Steve shakes through the rest of the attack, gasping and gagging. He can feel the tears on his face. 

Danny stays right there. He doesn’t move. He keeps up his soft litany of soothing words. 

Eventually, it slows enough that Steve can sit up and roll onto the bed, curling into himself a little. But then he catches sight of the wet spot on Danny’s pants and it almost jump starts the whole thing again. 

Immediately catching on, Danny says, “I’m going to grab a quick shower and change. You stay right here, keep breathing, okay?”

Closing his eyes, Steve nods. He turns his head into his own pillow, blocking out the sight and scent of Danny getting out of bed. He takes deep, measured breaths, willing his heart rate back to some sort of normal. 

By the time Danny comes back, hair wet and wearing a new set of clothes, Steve’s somewhere near baseline. Enough that when Danny asks, “Can we talk about that?” Steve nods. 

“Fucking amazing, babe,” Danny says, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Felt so fucking good to have your hand on me. Felt better because I knew how fucking brave you were being, just to do something nice for me. Best birthday present I ever got. Well. Except for that tie from Grace —” Steve punches Danny hard in the thigh and Danny breaks off laughing. 

“C’mon, babe. Let’s go get some food.”

Steve nods and sits up. Before Danny can leave the bed, Steve reaches out and grabs his wrist. Danny turns back to him, one eyebrow raised and Steve hauls him close for a kiss to the lips. Danny comes away smiling. 

_ Job well done, _ Steve thinks to himself. 

*

Danny wakes to Steve bolting upwards and scrambling for the trash can at the side of the bed. And then there’s the delightful and all too familiar sound of puking. Moving more slowly, Danny sits up and turns the light on. 

The back of Steve’s t-shirt is damp with sweat. He’s gasping and gagging and Danny’s chest hurts. He fucking hates seeing Steve go through this shit. 

Carefully, Danny comes around to sit next to Steve. “Bad dream?” Steve nods. “Can I touch you?” Steve shakes his head sharply. 

Danny bites his lip. It’s not often, now, that he can’t touch Steve after a bad dream. He always fucking asks, of course, but Steve usually says it’s fine. 

Steve staggers to his feet. “I’m going to go sleep in Mary’s room,” he rasps and heads right out the door. 

Clenching the bed cover in his fists, Danny tries not to let the ache in his chest turn into angry tears. It’s always two steps forward, one giant step back with Steve and sometimes that’s just really fucking hard to deal with. 

*

It’s a couple days before Danny’s invited back to Steve’s place, but other than that, Steve seems to spring back remarkably well. In fact, the next time they’re making out, Steve spontaneously reaches for Danny’s dick and then laughs at the squeaky noise Danny makes. He also spends about three days ribbing Danny for how quickly he came. Of course, there’s a wild-eyed, edgy look in Steve’s eyes every time he does, but Danny takes it as progress. 

Annoying, aggravating progress, because Steve can be a bit of an asshole, but fuck does Danny love him. 

*

Steve’s been thinking about it for a while, if he’s honest. Danny hasn’t said anything or even so much as hinted at anything, but it’s a normal couple thing to do. And they can’t stay in the house forever. Steve doesn’t want to hide Danny away and he doesn’t want Danny to resent him. 

He’s been reading the message boards Danny’s friend directed him to, though he can’t bring himself to participate. But he knows, at least on an intellectual level, that being out or at least privately out, is supposed to be good for his mental health. But knowing and feeling aren’t the same; his brain just short-circuits at the thought of other people knowing. Because once, other people did know, and his parents had him tortured for over a year and then discarded him. 

The thought of being gay in public isn’t nerve wracking. It’s fucking terrifying.

Still, Danny doesn’t get as much from this relationship as Steve gets from him. He’s got to do  _ something _ to keep Danny around, got to offer more than vomit and panicky hand-jobs if he wants this relationship to last. 

And he has to admit, he wants the unshakeable confidence that Danny has. The belief that he’s right and normal and that he’s  _ owed _ the rights that everyone else has. Steve barely believes he’s owed happiness, he can’t imagine demanding rights. But he wants to.

With all that in mind, he sacs up and tells Danny, “I want to go on a date,” as they fly down the highway. He keeps his hands on the wheel and his eyes carefully fixed on the road in front of them, but he can feel Danny swing around to stare at him all the same. 

“What,” Danny says flatly. Steve’s shoulders start to creep up to his ears; he forces them back down. 

“I want to take you out. On a date,” he repeats carefully. He hears Danny take a deep breath. Steve grips the steering wheel a little harder reflexively.

Danny’s voice is soft and still in the way that means he’s forcing himself to be calm when he asks, “Why?”

And that’s the real question isn’t it? Steve licks his lips and swallows, trying to find the words to explain. 

“It’s complicated. Lots of reasons, I guess. Some of it’s — I want to do right by you. The way things are…” Steve trails off, shakes his head angrily. “You deserve someone who can take you out on dates and shit like that. I might never be able to kiss you in public, but I can manage a date.”

“Steve, you don’t have to do that for —” Danny breaks in. 

“No, wait. It’s not just — I talked to Michael, okay? And I’ve been —” Steve stops, feeling his ears get hot. He doesn’t usually talk to Danny about the other things he does as he tries to get better, mostly because Danny sees him fail enough as it is. He doesn’t need to know about the time he spends in front of the mirror, on Michael’s recommendation, labeling himself. He doesn’t need to know how even that used to make him gag. Danny doesn’t need to know about the hours Steve’s spent labeling and relabeling pictures, trying to break all the old stereotypes that Doris and John, and yes, the Navy, taught him. 

“Look, I’m on these online support group things, okay?” Steve bites out, hating how defensive his voice is. “Michael recommended them. And people say that you have to — you have to realize that you’re not in danger. I have to do that before I can — before I can get better.”

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever used quite those words —  _ get better _ — with Danny before, at least not in reference to himself. They’re nebulous, they don’t really mean anything. But admitting that something’s wrong with him isn’t fucking easy. 

Danny reaches out and puts a hand on his thigh. “Alright, babe. Let’s go on a date.”

*

The date is  _ awful _ . Steve’s so fucking nervous the whole time that he can barely eat, which means Danny won’t let him drink. The conversation is stilted and forced. Steve can’t stop watching the room, wondering if people  _ know,  _ if they can guess that they’re there on a date. He keeps waiting for someone to approach, to kick them out, to call them names. 

But that doesn’t happen. 

By the time Danny calls the waitress over to get their check, the worst of Steve’s paranoia has started to fade. He’s a jittery, jumpy mess, but he feels less like everyone  _ knows _ . 

Once they’ve squabbled over the check (Steve wins — it’s their first proper date, and damn if Steve’s not gonna do right by Danny) and paid for their dinner, Danny suggests they go for a walk on the beach. They’d picked a dimly lit bar right on the water, hoping it would help Steve feel more comfortable, so they can walk right out the door onto the sand. 

Danny sits down on the sand unceremoniously and unties his shoes, sticking his socks into them when he’s done. Steve follows suit and then quietly lets Danny lead them down to the edge of the water. They walk in silence for a while. The crash of the waves helps Steve regulate his breathing, get his heart rate back to some sort of normal. 

It’s dark. They’re far from the most public parts of this beach, so only occasional restaurants interrupt their quiet. In a still stretch, Danny reaches out and grabs Steve’s hand. He squeezes it once, hard, and lets go. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, barely audible above the pounding of the surf. Purposefully, Steve doesn’t look over his shoulder. He doesn’t check to see if anyone else is in hearing range. 

He can’t quite manage  _ I love you,  _ but a quiet, “Ditto,” works it’s way past his lips. He can just see the glint of Danny’s smile out of the corner of his eye. 

Steve breathes in with the swell of the waves. 

*

Danny carefully considers Steve’s body language. He’s perched on the side of the bed, knee bouncing and fidgeting with his hands.  _ Anxious, _ Danny thinks, but not so panicked he’s gone completely still. That’s a good sign. 

They’ve just gotten back from their latest “date,” which had involved a terrible action film that Danny had paid literally no attention too, because he couldn’t stop thinking about what was coming next. 

They’ve clocked four successful over-the-clothes handjobs now (and two that ended prematurely in panic, but Danny’s choosing to focus on the positive here) and tonight, they’re going to try and get Steve off. There’s a very good chance it won’t happen, Danny’s the first to admit, and he privately thinks there’s a decent chance it will end in puke. 

But that’s fine. Baby steps.

They’re not even going to try and have Danny touch Steve tonight, just have him be there with him while he gets himself off. Danny’s stupid excited and has been ridiculously turned on by the idea since Michael suggested it. 

“You ready, babe?” Danny asks. Steve nods, looking a little shaky. Danny quirks a finger at him, “C’mere, come kiss me.”

Steve does as requested and they settle into the familiar pattern. Danny can’t wait until he has free reign of Steve’s body. He doesn’t completely understand why he’s not allowed to touch Steve’s chest — he gets the ass thing, given the connotation, but his chest? — but he stays strictly within the boundaries Steve has set for him. 

When Steve is shirtless and half hard, Danny rolls on to his side, giving Steve a little space. “Would you touch yourself now?” he asks. 

Steve flushes and licks his lips nervously. Danny keeps his gaze steady, tilts his body so his own erection is less obvious. After a long minute, Steve nods. He rolls onto his back, closing his eyes. Danny keeps his breath even and quiet. He’s not supposed to say anything this time, just watch, just be there. 

Moving slowly, Steve shoves his sweats down and slips his hand into his boxers. Danny can see him wrap his hand around himself and slowly start stroking. Danny lets his eyes rove over Steve’s chest, the gorgeous pecs he’s not allowed to touch, the pert little nipples Danny would love to suck on, up the column of his neck. Steve’s biting his lip, his cheeks are flushed. He’s fucking gorgeous. 

It proceeds in fits and starts. There’s a couple times Steve gets really into it, his hand starts to move quickly over his dick and his hips start to jerk and all of a sudden he stalls out, coming to a halt with a frustrated huff. 

The third time this happens, Steve tugs his hand out of his boxers and collapses against the pillows, jaw working and a scowl on his lips. 

“Babe?” Danny says, reaching out tentatively to touch Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s eyes fly open and he turns to look at him. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No,” Steve snaps. “It’s always fucking like this now.”

Danny lifts an eyebrow in surprise. Steve’s never let on that it’s been hard for him to get off. Not that he would, Danny supposes. It’s not like typical couples spend a lot of time talking about their masturbation habits, at least not in his experience. 

Out of curiosity, Danny asks, “Since when?”

Steve gestures between their bodies. “Since — us, I guess.”

“Damn,” Danny swears, grimacing. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine,” Steve says. “I can usually — eventually. Just takes a while. Too in my goddamn head.”

Nodding, Danny considers. “Anything I can do to get you out of your head?”

Steve purses his lips and turns to look at him, doing that quick glance down Danny’s body. Surprise flickers in his expression when his gaze comes to rest on Danny’s erection. 

“You’re hard,” Steve comments, seemingly without thought. 

“Fuck yeah, I am. You’re fucking gorgeous like this.”

“Oh.” 

Keeping his eyes fixed on Danny’s face, Steve slips his hand back into his shorts. Danny’s mouth goes a little dry. 

“God,” he whispers. “Straight out of a fucking fantasy.”

Steve’s breath hitches. Danny watches his hand move over the head of his dick, skin peeking out through his boxers. Steve’s eyes flutter halfway shut, but he keeps his gaze on Danny. 

“Tell me the thing,” Steve rasps. “That it’s — okay. Healthy.”

“It  _ is, _ ” Danny says immediately. “However we want to be together, however we want to make each other feel good is fucking right and normal and healthy. The most normal goddamn thing in the world. And you, making yourself feel good? That’s the most  _ okay  _ thing I could possibly imagine. Your body’s made to feel good,” Danny rambles. “Pleasure’s the goddamn point. Fuck,  _ look  _ at you.”

Steve’s starting to look a little wrecked. On a breath he hisses, “Okay, shut up now. I’m close — I’m so fucking —” Steve’s hips jerk once, twice, three times, but his hand keeps working over his dick as he comes and  _ fuck,  _ Danny wants to touch himself, he’s rock hard in his jeans and suddenly desperate to come, but that is  _ not  _ the deal. Tonight is all about Steve. 

Lazily, Steve pulls his hand out and reaches for a tissue. His eyes open all the way and Danny sees the moment he starts to panic, when it starts to sink in what just happened.

“No,” Danny says, accidentally pointing his finger and wagging it at Steve, which retrospectively is probably not the best choice mid-panic attack. Oops. “Don’t freak out. That was fucking amazing, babe, and you deserve to feel good, no matter how you get there, okay. And it makes me so fucking happy I got to help, you got no idea.”

Steve’s breath is still coming too quickly, but he’s nodding and Danny can see the wildness in his eyes starting to fade. 

“Good,” Danny says, keeping his voice sharp cause he knows that will get through Steve’s thick head quicker. “Good. Keep breathing.”

Steve does. Slowly, he gets back to someplace like calm. He sits up with a grimace. 

“Go shower,” Danny says, waving his hand. “But I am totally, 100% getting myself off while you’re in there, just so you know.”

Steve snorts a little, but nods. He gets up. He doesn’t reach out to touch Danny before he leaves, but Danny’s not shocked. As soon as the door is closed, Danny’s shoving down his jeans and boxer briefs and getting his hand around his dick. It takes approximately 30 seconds for him to come, so it’s a good thing that Steve’s not there to witness that again. 

Danny  _ used  _ to have stamina, before all this, but Steve’s pretty much wrecked that. Closing his eyes for a moment, Danny can’t say that he minds.    
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this story (or if you would like to help in the fight to criminalize conversion therapy of minors in the US), please considering donating to GLAD. GLAD is a an organization that has a long history of advocating for the legal rights of LGBTQ and HIV positive people. You can find their donation page [here](https://www.glad.org/get-involved/).

“Steve? Can we talk?” 

Steve turns away from the stove top where he’s frying eggs and bacon for breakfast. Danny’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes careful. Steve swallows tightly. Careful eyes are never a good sign. 

Breathing out through his nose, Steve turns back to the eggs. He keeps his voice casual as he says, “Sure. What’s up?”

He hears Danny push away from the doorway and come over to the table. The chair scrapes along the tile as Danny settles himself down. He doesn’t ask Steve to come over or even to look at him, for which Steve is grateful. 

“First, let me just be clear that things are really good, okay? I’m really happy with how things are now.” Steve’s shoulders tighten and his gut flips cause he’s never heard a better set up for a _but_ in his life. And yes, Danny continues, “But I can’t keep all this from my parents and Grace forever. I don’t care if the rest of the world ever knows. I’m not saying we need to come out of the closet in some grand way. I just need to be honest with my family.”

Steve puts the spatula down, turns and presses his hands into the edge of the counter until they hurt a little bit, breathing hard. Coming out to Danny’s parents. 

Steve’s pretty sure there’s nothing scarier Danny could ask him to do. And he _knows_ that’s stupid because Danny’s already out to his folks and it’s _fine._ Even Grace knows that Danny is bi. But the idea of coming out to any sort of _family_ is just — 

It’s fucking terrifying is what it is. Unexpectedly he gags and he quickly moves away from the food, towards the sink. He bends over, trying to suppress the urge to get sick. In the background, he can hear Danny taking over at the stove top. 

His eyes water in a way that is only half to do with trying not to puke. Fuck, but Danny’s so good to him and of course Danny doesn’t want to hide from his parents or Grace and Steve just needs to get it the fuck together —

But what if they don’t approve. What if this ruins everything for Danny. What if Danny _loses_ them the way Steve lost his family. He knows that logically that doesn’t make any fucking sense because they already know Danny’s bi so it shouldn’t matter, but Danny was married to a woman before and what if they were just okay with it because they always thought he’d end up with another woman and him being with a man —- 

Steve can’t fucking breathe. He doubles over, retching. His chest burns and his stomach cramps. 

What if either way Danny loses his family and it’s all Steve’s fault?

“I’m not saying right away,” Danny says softly, once Steve’s stopped puking. He pauses as Steve rinses out his mouth and spits. “I know this is a big fucking deal, okay? I get that. But this — I need this, Steve. All the rest of it,” Danny waves his hand expansively, “The sex and touching and all of that is fine the way it is. But I can’t keep hiding us forever.”

“Okay,” Steve rasps. 

Danny turns to him, eyebrows rising. “Okay?”

Steve nods shakily. Danny never fucking asks for anything, not ever. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t make Steve feel bad for not being able to give him normal fucking things. Steve needs to be able to give this to him. “Not yet. But I’ll work on it.”

Danny beams, filling the whole room with warmth. Steve fixes the image in his mind, because he knows this isn’t going to be easy. But he’s got to fucking try, just for the sake of that smile. 

*

Steve starts with a long conversation with Michael. It’s rough. Michael is brutally honest with him and doesn’t give him any easy answers. _You might lose more people, but you might gain others, Michael had said, But more to the point, you might lose Danny if you don’t do this. I met Danny when he was 19. He’d already been out to his parents for two years. That’s not a man who knows how to hide._

And Steve _knew_ that, he did. It’s just...hard to hear, from someone else. And it’s hard to think that this, after everything, is the thing that might drive Danny away. Steve has actually puked _on Danny_ and yet it’s not being out to his family that might be the deal breaker. 

Steve can’t quite wrap his head around it. This is a part of Danny he can’t understand. There’s no part of him that wants to be out to anyone, least of all what little family he has left.

But maybe that’s a cop out, he thinks one night, lying awake in bed. He plays it through in his brain. What if the rest of 5-0 knew? What if everytime Danny touched him or called him babe Steve didn’t have to wonder if their team was going to figure it out? What if when they came over unexpectedly Steve didn’t panic trying to think if Danny’s toothbrush was still lying on the counter, or his pants over the back of a chair, or his side of the bed unmade? What if he just knew it would be okay? That they’re safe, like Danny always says?

The thoughts stick with him, swirling around and around, making him wonder. 

*

“I can’t come out to your family yet,” Steve murmurs, sitting on the edge of the bed. Danny’s sprawled out under a thin blanket, shirtless and half asleep. They’d made out for a long time that night and Danny had lain next to Steve while Steve got himself off. It’s good, but Steve’s gearing himself up to ask for _more._ He thinks he might be able to want Danny’s hand on him now. It’s a scary thought, and not the point right now. Shaking his head, Steve gets his thoughts back on track. “But I was thinking...maybe Chin?”

Danny turns to look at him, eyes shadowed in the dim light of the bedroom. 

“That seems — I think I could do that,” Steve bites out. 

“Seems like a good choice to me,” Danny says. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks, trying not to sound like he’s looking for reassurance, even though he is. 

“Yeah,” Danny affirms. “He’s trustworthy, not an asshole. He went to Pride with one of his little cousins last year, ‘cause she was nervous, did you know? He’s a good choice.”

Steve suddenly feels like he can breathe properly and he’s a little bit shocked by how much Danny’s approval means to him. But then he doesn’t have any reason to trust his own judgement here. 

He’s never successfully come out to someone, after all. 

“Come to bed, babe. We’ll talk about this more tomorrow.” 

So Steve slides under the covers, spoons up behind Danny, takes a deep breath of his cologne and closes his eyes. 

He really is safe. 

*

They do talk about it tomorrow. And the next day. And most days for a couple of weeks, until Danny wants to say fuck it and just tell Chin himself, he’s that tired of talking about it. But he knows how hard this is for Steve and if coming up with plans and revising them a hundred times is what Steve needs to feel _okay,_ then who is Danny to judge?

What Danny _doesn’t_ tell Steve in all of those conversations is his own addition to the plan. It’s this addition that has him showing up unexpectedly at Chin’s house the night before the planned coming out. Danny rings the doorbell and waits, drumming his fingers against his thigh. 

Danny doesn’t really think that Chin needs talking to. He’s pretty sure Chin is going to be fine when Steve tells him. There’s not really anything to be worried about. 

But even if it doesn’t make sense, Danny is still really fucking worried. He might even say he was _panicked_ if he hadn’t lived through so many of Steve’s panic attacks. But the feeling edges under his skin and makes him more than a little pissed off in every fucking direction. He’s working hard to keep the scowl off his face, but he can’t stop thinking about what happens if this goes wrong, if Chin reacts badly, fuck even if Chin teases Steve in a friendly way. 

Steve might lose his cool, might panic right fucking there because the man’s on edge. Usually he’s able to suppress that shit when they’re in front of other people, but not always. Sometimes it’s a quick duck into a bathroom to puke and panic, or an escape to the car where they have bags and tinted windows. 

And if Steve panics in front of Chin, he’ll melt the fuck down later. And even if he doesn’t, if Chin doesn’t react _perfectly,_ it might all unravel for Steve. 

Maybe it’s dramatic to think that Steve might decide he doesn’t wanna be with Danny after all, that he’s done trying with men altogether, that he’s just going to go find a nice, simple woman to settle down with, but Danny can’t pretend that it’s not in the back of his head. And he knows that way back, when Danny first found out, Steve thought about reupping in the Navy and Danny just can’t lose Steve that way, he fucking can’t. 

When Chin opens the door he quirks an eyebrow in mild surprise, but steps aside to let Danny in. 

“Hey, Danny. I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“I need to talk to you,” Danny says abruptly, voice short with anger and worry.

Chin grins, and says dryly, “I assumed. Come in, I’ll grab us a beer.”

A beer will probably help with this conversation, so Danny follows Chin into the kitchen. Once they’ve both opened their beers, Chin leans against the counter and gestures at Danny with his open bottle. “Is this about tomorrow and whatever McGarrett’s invited me over for? Because he seemed tied up enough about it that I know it’s not just beers.”

Chin’s a great detective and he knows Steve pretty well. Danny’s not shocked that he’s suspicious of Steve’s motives. 

Nodding in acknowledgement, and the idea of Steve going back to the Navy and getting even more fucked up or fucking _dead_ playing through his head like a goddamn horror flick, Danny says, “He’s going to tell you something. And he is fucked up about it. I mean, more fucked up than you can possibly imagine, okay? So you are going to be patient and fucking kind and not tease him even a little bit. And if you aren’t I swear to god, Chin, I will fucking shoot you through the knee cap. Maybe both.”

Both of Chin’s eyebrows lift, surprise and concern sweeping across his face. 

“Okay,” he says slowly. “And are you going to tell me any more than that?”

“No. Steve’s gonna share whatever the fuck he wants to share and you are going to be extraordinarily decent about it.”

“Alright, then.”

They finish their beers in silence. 

*  
Steve starts the day with a five mile swim and then runs on the beach until his legs are burning and the way that his chest aches has nothing to do with anxiety. 

He goes home and cleans the house from top to bottom, but scrupulously does not put away any of Danny’s things, because that’s the fucking _point._ It’s _fine_ if Chin sees Danny’s sweater hanging off the back of the couch, or his sneakers by the door, or even his toothbrush in the bathroom. It’s _okay_ that Grace has some toys sitting out since the last time she spent the weekend, that there’s a sign on the guestroom door that reads _Grace’s other OTHER room _because Grace thinks she’s funny the way Danny thinks he’s funny.__

__The idea is that Chin know that yeah, Danny spends a lot of time here and so does his daughter because he and Steve are a couple and that’s good. Okay._ _

__Steve mostly doesn’t get a full breath the entire day. His tries to eat a bit of lunch, because he knows Danny would make him if he were there, but it comes right back up again. He grabs a ginger ale and settles himself on the lanai and tries not to think._ _

__It doesn’t really work._ _

__His thoughts swirl restlessly and anxiously, like a storm at sea. He’s just considering another run, despite the fact that he’s still sore, when Danny calls._ _

__“Hey, babe,” Danny greets when Steve picks up. “How you doing?”_ _

__“Fine,” Steve grunts, closing his eyes._ _

__He can hear the skepticism in Danny’s voice when he says, “Uh huh, sure you are. What are you thinking for this afternoon — you want me to come over? I can disappear upstairs. Or I can park a couple blocks over, just be there if you need me. Or I can stay the fuck out of it, you just let me know.”_ _

__Steve feels pathetic._ _

__He wants Danny there. In fact, he wants to say fuck it and have Danny tell Chin everything, not have to face the terrifying prospect of coming out at all. But that’s very much not the point of this. He needs to do it for himself._ _

__That knowledge makes him say, “Stay home. But maybe...after?”_ _

__“Of course,” Danny says, like he wouldn’t consider anything else. “I’ll bring some food from that new sushi place. You should be able to keep down at least some of that.”_ _

__Steve takes a long, deep breath. Danny knows him so fucking well, even the weird idiosyncrasies of what Steve can stomach when his panic is bad. Steve knows that Danny will order exactly the right things, without Steve saying a thing._ _

__“Thanks, bud,” Steve says. Fixing his eyes on the horizon line, he adds, “I love you.”_ _

__“Ditto, babe,” Danny says with an audible smile._ _

__Steve smiles and breathes._ _

__*_ _

__Steve’s waiting in the living room when Chin knocks on the door. He forces himself up out of the couch and to the door at a normal pace, resisting the urge to rush or run the other direction._ _

__When Steve opens the door, Chin smiles, lifting the six pack of Longboards welcomingly. Steve tries to grin back. He can tell he’s not very successful, but Chin just keeps smiling determinedly._ _

__“Come in,” Steve croaks. He knows he should say hi, or ask Chin how he is, or _something,_ but it’s all he can do to even look in his direction. Instead, he leads Chin into the kitchen, grabs his bottle opener and leans against the counter. _ _

__Chin doesn’t seem to mind and, blessedly, doesn’t try to make any small talk. He just cracks a bottle in silence and offers it to Steve. Steve shakes his head. He tries not to drink when he’s anxious like this, plus he knows it’s not going to help his stomach at all._ _

__Chin nods and takes the bottle for himself and for a long minute they just stand there in silence, leaning against the counter and not really looking at each other._ _

__Eventually, Chin turns to him, gaze steady and face impassive. “What’s up, man?”_ _

__Steve opens and closes his mouth a couple times, not sure how to start. “I —” he finally says. “I need to tell you something. No, I mean. I want to tell you something. I just — fuck.” Steve can feel his ears going pink even as his stomach starts to cramp. He’s making such a goddamn fool of himself. How is Chin ever going to respect him after seeing him bumble like a goddamn idiot._ _

__“Take your time,” Chin says, tone as even as Steve’s ever heard it. “I’m not going anywhere.”_ _

__Only Steve doesn’t know where to fucking start. He’d thought through this, he’d fucking practiced, but now faced with the reality of telling Chin, “ _I’m bi,_ ” feels impossible. And then what? Then he has to say that he’s with Danny and then there will probably be questions about how long and how come they didn’t say anything and Steve doesn’t know how to even start with that. Of course, that’s assuming Chin even wants to listen after that. Maybe he’ll storm out. Maybe he’ll look at Steve with disgust, call him names — all the ones that used to feel inscribed in his fucking skin like everyone could tell just by fucking looking at him. _ _

__It’s probably better not to say anything, to just keep being hiding and worrying, rather than risk Chin knowing. It’s probably safer. There’s no reason for Chin to know anyway — what does it matter what Steve does or thinks at home in the privacy of his own fucking home? Chin doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t need to know this particular secret._ _

__Except._ _

___I can’t keep hiding us forever,_ Danny had said. And that’s the reason Steve’s here, isn’t it? For Danny. And yeah, for himself, too. He doesn’t want to be so fucking afraid anymore. He doesn’t want to feel pathetic or like a coward. He wants to feel like maybe _gay_ doesn’t mean _the end of my life as I know it,_ the way it had when he was a kid. _ _

__Steve takes a deep breath. He fixes his eyes on the floor, unable to look at Chin. His heart is pounding and he can feel his breath coming too quick and he’s swallowing convulsively, but it doesn’t fucking matter. He has to do this. If he wants to get better, if he wants to keep Danny, if he wants to reclaim his fucking life, he has to fucking do this._ _

__“Danny and I —” why are the words so hard, why can’t he just _say_ it, “I — we. We’re —.” _ _

__The nausea spikes sharply and Steve has to grip the side of the counter and bite his lip, trying desperately not to puke in front of Chin. He can puke _later,_ when Danny’s there to sit with him, to ramble on about things that don’t hurt. _ _

__“I’m with Danny,” Steve whispers, almost too quiet to be perceptible. Chin leans in a little, but doesn’t get too close. Just — trying to hear Steve, trying to listen, trying to catch what Steve’s trying to give him. “We’re together.”_ _

__Steve wants to be able to use the words he’s spent so long practicing in the mirror — _bisexual, gay,_ fuck, even _queer_ recently, because he loves the way the word sounds in Danny’s voice, so confident and assured. But he can’t seem to make his mouth form those words now, in front of Chin. Shamed anger joins the maelstrom of emotion in his gut. _ _

__Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Chin nod slowly. He wonders if Chin’s expecting more from him. He wonders if he can possibly say any more than that._ _

__“He — I —” Steve tries, but he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. He doesn’t know what else there is to say._ _

__“Thanks for telling me, man,” Chin says, setting his beer down. “I’m glad you felt you could trust me with this.”_ _

__Steve nods sharply. It hits him hard and sharp, like a knife to the gut. Chin _knows_ now. He knows that Steve’s into men. He knows Steve _kisses_ men, probably thinks he fucks them and touches them and fantasizes about them. He’s struck with a sudden urge to explain, to say that it’s only Danny, that they don’t fuck, not like that. He wants to defend himself, he wants to make sure Chin doesn’t misunderstand. _ _

__But he’s not misunderstanding, Steve tells himself sharply. What does it matter if he thinks that Steve’s been with more men than Danny? What does it matter if he thinks he knows what they do in bed?_ _

__But no matter what he tells himself, Steve can’t shake the feeling of the vulnerability, the sensation of being stripped of his kevlar and his weapons, of standing out in the open, waiting for the enemy to take a shot at him._ _

__He flinches when Chin raises a hand as if to clap him on the shoulder and Chin quickly pulls back. “Listen, brah, seems like you could use some space. But I really appreciate you sharing this with me, alright? I’m glad you and Danny wanted to share it with me.”_ _

__Steve nods, swallowing tightly._ _

__Chin smiles one more time — calm, soothing, reassuring — and says goodbye, and then lets himself out._ _

__Steve sinks to the floor, shaking so hard he can’t stand. He puts his head between his knees, trying to fight the wooziness. He feels like he’s been bear crawling all night. He feels like he’s just gotten back from SERE training._ _

__He’s crying, he realizes a moment later._ _

__But he’s so fucking relieved. Chin knows. The world didn’t end._ _

__The world didn’t fucking end._ _

__*_ _

__Danny shows up at Steve’s place as soon as he’s sure the coast is clear, carrying a big bag of sushi. He’s not sure how much Steve will be able to stomach, but he’s positive Steve didn’t keep hardly anything down today and probably exercised way too fucking hard, so Danny’s going to try and get some calories and protein into the man._ _

__He lets himself into Steve’s house, calling out as he does. Steve gives a call from the kitchen, sounding shaky as hell. Danny immediately heads back, own anxiety rising. It had been an awful fucking day, having to just sit still and wait while Steve did something that was so fucking terrifying to him. Usually, Danny gets to be right there with him when Steve’s doing that shit._ _

__Steve’s on the ground, leaning up against the counter, looking completely exhausted. But he looks up and smiles when Danny comes in and there’s no evidence of puke anywhere — not even the lingering scent of air freshener — so it can’t have been too bad. Danny plonks the take out bag down on the counter and slides to the ground next to Steve, ignoring the groaning of his knee._ _

__“Hey, babe,” he says softly, carefully giving Steve space. But Steve immediately moves closer, pressing their shoulders together. “Tell me about it?” he requests._ _

__Steve shrugs, letting his head thunk back against the counter. “I don’t know. I told him we’re together. I couldn’t manage anything else.”_ _

__“That’s plenty,” Danny says, trying to suppress the excitement that wants to creep into his voice. Chin _knows!_ That’s one fucking person Danny doesn’t have to hide from anymore. He doesn’t have to lie if Chin asks him what he’s doing over the weekend. There’s not suddenly going to be any PDA or anything, Danny knows that. But it’s thrilling to know that in this one way he can be a little less careful. And Danny’s optimistic — once Steve sees that Chin’s alright with it, that the world’s not going to end, then maybe they’ll tell Kono and Max. Eventually, Grace and the rest of Danny’s family. _ _

__Danny turns and presses a quick kiss to the side of Steve’s head, too happy to contain himself. “I’m fucking proud of you. That wasn’t easy, but you did it. You fucking did it.”_ _

__“I guess I did,” Steve says with a tired, but self-satisfied, smile. Danny grins, reaches out to squeeze Steve’s thigh and lets himself dream about the future._ _

__*_ _

__It’s a rough couple of days, but Danny didn’t expect any different. He’s well versed in Steve, now, and he likes to think he does a decent enough job managing the ebbs and flows of the weekend — the times when Steve is triumphant and confident and the times when he’s nervous and twitchy, not letting Danny into his space at all._ _

__Monday, after a surprisingly boring day of work, Danny heads back to his own place. He is somehow not shocked to get there and find Chin waiting outside. The man had been extraordinarily normal that day — which was excellent because Steve had been edgy as fuck — but Danny had caught a worried frown flashing across his face more than once._ _

__Chin’s got that blank look on his face that means he is deeply, deeply furious and trying to act like a reasonable human being anyway. Danny’s familiar with the mood. This particular piece of Steve brings it up often._ _

__“Hey, man,” Danny greets._ _

__“We need to talk,” Chin says, echoing Danny’s words from last week. Danny briefly wonders if that’s purposeful or not, before moving on._ _

__“Yeah, okay.” He unlocks the door, pushing it open and stopping to flick the light on and put his keys in. “C’mon in, I’ll grab us a beer.”_ _

__They take a couple minutes to get settled, before sitting down at Danny’s tiny kitchen table. He moves some of Grace’s craft supplies out of the way and turns to give Chin his full attention._ _

__“Who fucked him up so bad?” Chin asks. “The man nearly _puked_ trying to tell me that you guys are a couple, which is far from the most shocking thing I’ve ever heard.”_ _

__“Oh, God, please don’t tell _him_ that,” Danny says immediately, thinking of how much that information would fuck Steve up. _ _

__Chin shakes his head, giving Danny an incredulous look. “I’m not that stupid. Now tell me what the hell _happened_ to him, because I refuse to believe that it’s _just_ the Navy or ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.’ This is a hell of a lot more than that.”_ _

__“It is,” Danny admits, because there’s no denying that. With a tired sigh, he rubs a hand over his face, debating what else to say. It’s not his place to tell Chin what happened to Steve, he knows that much. “But anything else Steve’s gonna have to tell you. It’s not my place.”_ _

__“The man could barely tell me that you two are together!” Chin barks out. “He’s not going to tell me anything else.”_ _

__Danny shrugs, meeting Chin’s eyes. “No, probably not.”_ _

__Chin pushes to his feet, hands curling into fists. “Someone _hurt_ him. They fucked him up. That’s not — That’s not how Steve _is,_ barely able to string words together, too scared to look me in the eye. That’s not the man I know. Whoever did that to him — they deserve worse than death.”_ _

__Danny forgets sometimes, that no one else gets to see the weak, vulnerable parts of Steve. Steve has hidden himself away so fully that no one could ever guess at the pain that dwells just below the surface. The Steve who has panic attacks, who cries through nightmares, who had to learn to let Danny hug him — that’s not a Steve anyone else knows. Which would be fine, except it also means that people don’t always get to see his incredible kindness, or his ability to understand people. They don’t understand how fucking amazing it is that Steve is capable of that kind of goodness, after everything he’s been through._ _

__“Trust me, I’m with you. But I can’t tell you who or what or anything. It’s not mine to tell. And listen, Steve’s not going to be able to tell you right now, he’s _not._ There’s no fucking way. But that doesn’t mean he won’t one day. He’s learning to trust, man, and if you push that’s all going to fall apart.”_ _

__“I’m not going to push,” Chin says, voice softening, anger turning into something like grief on his features. “Just. Fuck. I could kill whoever did this to him.”_ _

__“I’ll drink to that,” Danny says. “But hey, I can say — the people who did this. They can’t hurt him anymore, okay? He’s safe and he’s getting better, he is. A year ago, he never would have been able to tell you this. You should feel fucking honored he trusted you with this. Y’know you’re the first person Steve’s ever come out to? He didn’t even really come out to me.”_ _

__“Really?” Chin asks, eyebrow lifting and expression lightening minutely._ _

__“Yeah. He really trusts you.”_ _

__Chin picks up his Longboard, nodding thoughtfully. “I’m glad. I won’t abuse it.”_ _

__“See that you don’t. I haven’t revoked the threat to shoot you in the kneecaps.”_ _

__Chin rolls his eyes and Danny grins. It’s going to be okay._ _

__*_ _

__“So what do you think,” Danny proposes one evening, while they’re out on the lanai, “About trying to have us both come tonight?”_ _

__Steve goes still, but Danny’s pretty sure it’s the _processing_ kind of stillness, not the panic type. _ _

__It’s been about a week since Steve came out to Chin and things are better in all sorts of ways. Steve seems easier in his own skin, somehow, like having successfully told one person has helped him be a little more okay with who he is. Danny’s happier, too, just knowing that a member of their work _ohana_ is in on their little secret makes it feel like less of a secret. Danny hates hiding, always has. It’s nice to feel like there might be an end to that in sight. _ _

__So Danny’s feeling good, optimistic. Excited, even. And that makes him feel like maybe they could manage coming together the way he knows both of them desperately want — no more of this getting one of them off and the other disappearing to jerk off._ _

__“Yeah,” Steve says, a little hoarsely. “Yeah, I’d like that. But I was also thinking — maybe. Maybe you could touch me tonight?”_ _

__Danny’s eyes go wide ‘cause _hell yes, please and thank you._ He really, really wants that, he just hadn’t thought Steve was _there_ yet. _ _

__“God, babe,” Danny says, letting his voice go low. “I want that so much.”_ _

__Steve shivers, twitches like he’s resisting the urge to turn around and check that no one else is there, and then nods. “Maybe we could — both?”_ _

__Danny resists the urge to frown. That sounds ambitious, but if Steve wants to try Danny’s not about to say no. “Okay, babe. As long we take it slow.”_ _

__Steve rolls his eyes. “Danny, we have the slowest moving sex life of all fucking time.”_ _

__Steve’s never referred to it as their ‘sex life’ before. In fact, he avoids referring to it whenever possible. Danny beams. Maybe they really can do this._ _

__*_ _

__Steve’s place is always the best bet for when they’re trying something new — he feels more secure there, Danny thinks, safer somehow. His turf and all that. So Danny’s more than a little surprised when Steve suggests they go to Danny’s place for their next experiment._ _

__Steve must read Danny’s surprise on his face, because he says, somewhat haltingly, “I can’t be in that house, with my mom’s voice so goddamn loud and — I just want it to be you and me. I don’t want to remember puking in that bathroom or the way they took my fuckin’ door or —.” Steve cuts himself off, eyes shuttered and lips pursed._ _

__They’re in the car, so Danny doesn’t hesitate to reach out and lay a hand on Steve’s thigh. “Sounds like a good plan, babe.”_ _

__It’s a couple days later that Steve comes over to Danny’s place, bearing beer and pad thai from that one place they can always agree on. The pad thai and beer goes in the fridge for later, if Steve’s up to it, and they make their way to Danny’s bedroom._ _

__In some kind of creepy synchrony, they lock the door and windows, pull the blinds down, and get out everything Steve might need. Unlike at Steve’s place, Danny doesn’t keep the mouthwash by the bed or a trash can under his bedside table._ _

__Steve sits down on the edge of the bed, hands fisting into the covers. “I want —” he says softly, voice a little tight, “I want us to be naked.”_ _

__Danny can’t help the ways his brows lift. “You sure, pal? That’s a lot of _new_ in one goddamn night.”_ _

__“I know,” Steve admits. He looks up, meeting Danny’s eyes. “But I want it.”_ _

__Slowly, Danny nods. “Alright, let’s do it.”_ _

__He comes in close, bending down to kiss Steve. They lose themselves in the familiar — the ways they’ve learned to touch each other. Shirts disappear without too much discussion, hands find all of the hot spots they’ve spent the last two years mapping._ _

__Like always, Danny lets Steve take the lead, so it’s Steve who reaches down to Danny’s button, not quite meeting his eyes. Danny tilts himself back a little, making it easier for Steve to get at his button and jeans. They’re lying on their sides, because that or Steve on top tends to work best for everyone involved._ _

__“You sure?” Danny can’t help but check._ _

__“Yes,” Steve says, voice soft but sure, which eases some of Danny’s worry. Danny pushes back and awkwardly wiggles out of his jeans, but leaves his boxer briefs on. Steve runs a warm hand over Danny’s hip and down his thigh. Shivering, Danny leans in for a kiss, licking into Steve’s mouth. Steve breathes out a happy sounding sigh and pushes a little closer. His hand comes up and brushes over Danny’s dick, making Danny hiss and jerk into the contact._ _

__“Yeah, babe,” he sighs, always making a concentrated effort to stay away from moans and other sex noises, knowing how they get to Steve._ _

__Propping his head up with one hand, Steve looks down Danny’s body. Danny sees him firm up his jaw and a sort of fond amusement shoots through him. He’s not sure when this got fun, working through this shit with Steve, but the honest truth is that it can be. Most of the things he and Steve do were things Danny first did in high school, and hasn’t spent this much time on since. Taking their time, experiencing it all for the first time with Steve makes all those old activities new and exciting again._ _

__Danny’s so lost in thought he doesn’t notice Steve’s hands drifting to the waistband of his boxer briefs until he’s plucking at it tentatively. Knowing better than to second guess Steve again, Danny lowers his hand to push them down. It’s the first time he’s been naked and hard around Steve, and he’s very very aware of it. Steve’s gone a little pale in the dim light of the bedroom — worse than he’s ever looked staring down the barrel of an enemy gun, Danny thinks a little hysterically._ _

__“How d’you wanna do this?” he asks softly. “You wanna get naked now, touch each other together? Or is that too much?”_ _

__Steve bites his lip, looking torn. “I want to try,” he finally says, echoing his words from earlier._ _

__“Yeah, me too,” Danny says, running his arm up Steve’s arm, lingering on his bicep. Steve’s breath shudders. Steve slides back and then unceremoniously shoves his pants and boxer briefs down in one go, stubborn intent written all over his face. He’s half hard and fucking glorious — visibly wary and stubborn and so fucking brave and _goddammit_ Danny fucking loves this man. _ _

__“God, babe, can I touch you please?”_ _

__Steve swallows but nods. Starting with safe territory, Danny puts his hand on Steve’s hip, rubs his thumb over the ridge of muscle. He sweeps down, over Steve’s thigh and leans in to kiss him as he brings his hand back up, trailing his fingers along the inside of Steve’s thigh. Steve whimpers into Danny’s mouth and Danny bites back a grin of triumph. God, he loves making this man feel good._ _

__Moving slowly, giving Steve time to stop him, Danny brings his hand up and gently cups Steve’s dick, hyperaware that this is the first time he’s been allowed to touch Steve this way and the first time in a long time that Steve has been touched at all. He doesn’t tighten his grip yet, just holds his hand there and kisses Steve within an inch of his life. Steve’s whole body shakes and Danny can feel his dick harden in his grip._ _

__“Fuck,” Danny hisses. “Fuck, I’m so glad we’re doing this, Steve. Can’t even fucking tell you.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Steve mumbles into Danny’s lips. “Yeah.”_ _

__Danny tightens his grip, adds a tentative stroke. He pulls back so he can see Steve’s face — he’s got his eyes closed tightly and his lips part as Danny squeezes around the head. He looks totally out of his head for the first time in Danny’s experience and it makes Danny’s breath catch in his throat. He’s never seen Steve like this, just completely awash in pleasure, anxiety not visible in his body at all._ _

__“Goddamn babe,” Danny whispers, “You’re fucking beautiful like this. So fucking gorgeous.”_ _

__Steve’s breath hitches. Danny strokes his hand up and down a few more times, pausing to rub his thumb under the head and up over the slit, collecting the pre-cum. He’s suddenly breathless with the thrill of touching Steve like this, of getting to be this close to Steve._ _

__“Danny,” Steve sighs, brows furrowing, “Danny, I think —” And then Steve’s coming, body going still and hips jerking once, twice, three times before Steve collapses back into the bed. “Fuck. _Fuck._ I haven’t come that quick in I don’t know how long.”_ _

__Danny laughs, relieved and pleased, wipes his hand on the covers._ _

__“Really?” Steve asks. “Really, Danny? That’s disgusting, man.”_ _

__Rolling his eyes, Danny snipes, “Shut up and touch me, dumbass.”_ _

__Steve rolls his eyes too, but there’s a little grin pulling at his face and for a minute nothing happens while they smile stupidly at each other. Steve reaches out without prompting, sweeping a hand up and down Danny’s chest, plucking at a nipple and trailing fingers through Danny’s chest hair. They lean in to kiss again, exchanging shorter, wetter kisses as Steve’s hand moves progressively lower, until finally Steve takes a grasp of Danny’s dick._ _

__When Steve’s touched Danny bare before, it’s mostly been Steve slipping his hand into Danny’s boxer briefs. Then they don’t have to worry about the visual cues, which can often be too much for Steve. They’ve tried this only once before and it didn’t end well, so Danny’s a little worried about how it’s going to go._ _

__But Steve’s grasp is steady, if not exactly what Danny would call confident, and as always it doesn’t take much from Steve to get Danny gasping and shuddering and on the brink of coming. Steve presses open mouthed kisses to Danny’s neck and his hand twists around Danny’s dick in a way that Danny has seen Steve do on his own dick and that realization is enough to tip Danny over the edge._ _

__Danny tucks his face into Steve’s neck as he shakes through it, mumbling Steve’s name as he does._ _

__“God, babe. That was amazing,” Danny whispers. He pulls back so he check in properly on Steve. His face is a little pale and a tense set to his eyes, but he’s not freaking out. Danny can’t help but remember when he first confessed his feelings to Steve, going in to kiss him and seeing the panic on his face, having no idea what it meant._ _

__He remembers the months he thought nothing would ever happen between him, that he’d feared pining after Steve for the rest of his goddamn life. He remembers the months stumbling through any sort of intimacy, sure they’d never have this._ _

__And he’s so goddamn grateful for this man, for the work he’s done to make this work. Steve has suffered through so many panic attacks and nightmares, countless hours spent hunched over trash cans and toilet bowls puking his damn guts up._ _

__“You’ve been so fucking brave,” Danny murmurs, pressing a little closer. “This whole time. Fuck, you’ve done so much work to make this work, I can’t even comprehend it. The things you’ve lived through, the things you’ve put yourself through for us. So goddamn proud of you, babe.”_ _

__Steve ducks his head, shy. “Couldn’t have done it without you. Wouldn’t have done it for anyone else.”_ _

__“Aw, you big softie,” Danny teases, putting his hand on the back of Steve’s head, rubbing gently._ _

__“Shuddup,” Steve grunts, body starting to go a little heavy with pre-sleep. Danny’s gonna have to get him up and showered and in some sort of clothes, because there’s a good chance there will be nightmares tonight and even if there aren’t, Steve’ll feel better waking up clean and dressed._ _

__But not right this second, Danny thinks. He’d like to bask in their shared afterglow for just a little longer._ _

__“Love you, babe.”_ _

__“Ditto.”_ _

___fin._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay on the look out for the second arc of this story coming (hopefully) this fall, where we'll get to see Steve dealing with the fallout of Doris' untimely return. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and commenting!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates weekly.


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